


Adventures of the Somewhat United States

by Ashynarr, faranth



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Historical References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 38,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashynarr/pseuds/Ashynarr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/faranth/pseuds/faranth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America has a short, rich history, but that history isn't his alone - the States have been around just as long as him (if not longer in a few cases!), and they have their own lives and stories to share. Mostly centered around Isabel 'California' Gomez and Susanna 'New Jersey' van Laren, but co-features the others as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some snippets of Isabel's early days, plus some modern day relations and shipping shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight AmeCan in this part; just in case you're not a fan you can skip the last drabble.
> 
> Human (State) names:  
> Isabel Gomez (California)   
> Susannah van Laren (New Jersey)  
> Samuel Rogers (Texas)   
> Benjamin van Laren (New York)

The first thing she remembers is the ocean.

There was sand between her toes, warmed by the summer sun overhead. The water in front of her lapped deep blue against the sands, its cool spray blown softly into her face by the welcome breeze. Above her, several birds cried out as they rode seaside winds across the clear blue sky.

In the distance, she saw a plume of water come up out of the water. Curious, she stepped forward only to jump back as the water hit her feet, chilling her. She watched more plumes of water from there, barely making out something moving in the water far from shore, until they finally stopped.

Eventually she turned away, looking behind her. Sand dunes rose well above her head as they went inland, before the crest of the hill made anything past impossible to see from where she stood. Well, that was easy enough to fix. Her feet made little sound on the sands as she scrambled for the top of the hill, her plain white dress picking up stains along the way.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Mr. America?" California asked from the doorway, drawing Alfred's attention away from the letters he'd received from his boss concerning the newly claimed territory he'd just won, including the little one before him now.

"I told you to call me Alfred," He replied in Spanish, turning to her with a soft smile. He'd learned to hide his grimase at how small she'd been when he'd finally gotten a good look at her, and wondered again what could drive Mexico to do such a cruel thing to a kid, human or not. "What is it?"

The territory bit her lip, rocking on her feet. "I never gave you something for all the food you gave me."

Alfred shook his head. "I told you, you're one of my responsibilities now, and what kind of caretaker would I be if I didn't look after you?"

California dipped her head. "The Fathers at the missions taught me to always pay back for whatever I got, though, so that's what I'm doing."

With that she pulled a small bundle out from behind her, stepping forward and pressing it into his hands before backing away skittishly.

"I can't take this-" Alfred started.

"Please, Mr. America, you've done so much for me." She pleaded. "I've been keeping it all for a long time, but I think you should have it."

The Nation sighed, figuring that whatever small trinket she had wasn't worth the effort of fighting her over. Instead he carefully opened up the pouch, sticking a hand in and pausing when he felt the small objects at the bottom. Rocks?

He pulled one out, not even bothering to hide his shock when it glinted in the lantern light. Not daring to believe, he gently pressed, swallowing when the soft metal indented under the pressure. Alfred looked back to the bag, then to California, who was nervously waiting for his reply.

"Is… everything in this bag this stuff?"

California nodded. "It's all I had down here with me, but I have lots more up north."

Alfred swallowed again. "How much?"

"Lots," California frowned for a second in thought. "I almost always find some when I'm getting water from the rivers up north, and I like to collect the bigger pieces."

The Nation was now thinking very rapidly. "Do you think you could show me?"

She blinked. "Sure, if you like. I mean, if you aren't too busy…"

"My boss won't mind me taking a few days off," Alfred promised with a smile.

Definitely not if what he was daring to hope was in fact true.

~0~0~

Several days later found them up by the large bay, the territory leading him along a river with a bounce in her step.

"You just need to dig a bit to get them out of the sand, because they sink." She instructed with all the authority her eight year old appearence allowed. To showcase, she got on her knees on the bank, ignoring the dirt and mud getting onto her dress in favor of digging her hands into the river sand. A few moments of sifting it had her grinning in triumph as she held up a small nugget, presenting it to the Nation with ease. "See? It's easy!"

Alfred could hardly believe his luck at this point. "Can I try?"

"Uhuh!" She scooted over unnecessarily, allowing him to tug his gloves off and tuck them into his belt before repeating her actions, taking somewhat longer before managing to unearth his own authentic piece of gold.

Examining the piece in the afternoon sun, he considered his options, finally turning to the territory with a new glint in his eye. "How'd you feel about some new people coming to settle? Do you think you could show them this trick too?"

California blinked up at him owlishly. "I think so… why?"

Alfred looked back to the gold in his hand, which matched the weight carefully tucked into his carrier bag. "Because I have a feeling a few people are going to be interested in this stuff…"

California giggled. "Well I know that much, Mr. America - Mr. Spain was really interested in gold too."

Alfred turned to her sharply. "You know what this stuff is?"

California smiled. "It was one of the reasons Mr. Spain was out here in the first place. He showed me what gold looked like the one time he came by when I was littler. I didn't have any gold then, and I didn't want Mexico to know I had it, but you seem nice, so I think you should know."

"I-" Alfred shook his head, grinning just a bit. "You're a crafty little thing, aren't you?"

She merely smiled up at him. "Well I hafta be if I wanna take care of myself."

Alfred wasn't sure whether to be happy with that thought or not. But at the least, it meant he finally had something truly of value. He gently ruffled her hair, smiling in amusement.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He asked rhetorically. "I wonder what else you have just waiting for me to find."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Mr. Bonnefoy," Isabel greeted with a smile, holding out a hand. "It's nice to see you again."

"Ms. Gomez," Francis greeted in turn, shaking her hand before turning it to plant a kiss. "You're looking as radiant as always."

"Thank you," She grinned. "Though Alfred would probably be upset if he heard you say that."

"He seems to feel I have no self-control," Francis sniffed disdainfully. "I know I taught him better than that."

Isabel tilted her head back in mock thought. "You can always blame Arthur for that, I guess."

"Oh, believe me, I do."

The State shook her head, grinning. "Shall we get going? I have the reservations set for a half hour from now, and I've sure you'll enjoy the venue."

"Thoughtful as always," Francis thanked, stepping beside her as they enjoyed the late afternoon atmosphere. "Though that makes me wonder where you got your manners from, since I doubt Alfred taught you."

"You'd be surprised," She laughed. "He's not great, but he taught me enough, and I rest I picked up on my own. You're the one I practice with most, especially after you started visiting to try out my vintages."

"I can't help myself, I'm afraid - you have a talent for the craft almost matching my own, and you know a few things about fashion, as well." Francis sighed dramatically. "Oh, if only you weren't his, I would adopt you in an instant to bring out your full potential."

"Says the guy who rated mine better than his own on the last blind test," Isabel shot back. "And I'm happy being one of Al's states, so don't start getting ideas."

"I have no idea what you mean, my dear," The Nation replied innocently, a quirk to his smile. "Though your loyalty is admirable."

"What can I say? He made me rich and famous, and you just can't beat that."

"Far too true," Francis agreed. "I fear to think what you'd do as a full Nation."

Isabel smiled innocently, echoing Francis' earlier words. "I have no idea what you mean."

Francis laughed cheerfully. "Of course you don't."

She grinned, before pointing to his side. "That's our stop."

He looked the place over, nodding. "Lovely as always."

"I try."

They entered, quickly being ushered to their seats and brought a bottle of red wine. They forwent conversation for a bit to enjoy the bottle, each rolling the first sip across their tongues before swallowing.

"A good year, I see."

"Hmm," Isabel agreed, taking another sip. "I think this is the same year you liked so much. Same tang."

"Possibly," Francis replied neutrally.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Normally when California noticed a potential match in the making, she didn't do too much to hide the fact that she was interested in helping things along, as it were. Certainly, her methods weren't perfect, but as New Jersey and Texas or Maine and Minnesota could attest, she was rather good at what she did.

In this case, though, a more thoughtful approach was needed.

Firstly, because Alfred was one of the people involved, and if he found out she was trying to help him get his man, she'd end up in time out for the rest of the millenium probably.

Secondly, it involved Matthew. And if Alfred found out she was getting involved in  _his_  lovelife -

Some things were best left not thought about.

But that came back to what, exactly, she was going to do. She damn well knew she wasn't making up the looks they sent each other sometimes, and there was no doubt those two idiots would misinterpret any gestures made towards themselves as brotherly and not in its true intended spirit.

Really, and everyone thought  _she_  was oblivious. (Cali deliberately ignored the fact that she fostered that image herself.)

California thought about recruiting the other states and provinces, before dismissing it out of hand. None of them, not even New Jersey, had the same appreciation for romance and happily ever afters as she did, and there was the risk of more mouths meaning more chances of getting into huge trouble down the line.

No, she needed help from someone with a lot more experience in this issue - one who, if caught, could accept the blame much more easily than any pseudo-Nation could.

She pulled out her phone, quickly checking the time in France to make sure it wasn't too obscenely early or late there before quick-dialing the same Nation that had taught her the art of l'amour in the first place.

"Hallo?"

"Hey, Mr. Bonnefoy, I was wondering if you could help me with something…"

~0~0~

"Are you sure this'll work?" California asked some time later, frowning thoughtfully. Inside the restaurant, the two were idly conversing over their dinners, both flushed pink across the cheeks.

"Of course, my dear," France preened lightly. "You doubt my teachings now?"

"No, it's not that," She denied. "It's just that I'm worried they'll find it too… fancy."

"There's no such thing." The Nation sniffed, though there was a slight grin. "I know the boys would prefer something a little more plain - though I can't imagine why - but I feel putting them in a nicer atmosphere with no interruptions might at least encourage them to start thinking about it."

The State nodded, understanding dawning. "Get their hopes up, so they're more likely to take the next step on their own. But if they back off, this'll all go south faster than you can say 'oh shit'."

"That's why we're going to encourage that step before they lose their nerves again."

"How?" California frowned again, mind working furiously.

France tilted his head to her. "I figured I would leave that to you, since you know them better than I in this instance, I feel."

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, mumbling as she ran through scenarios. Definitely nothing flashy or overly public - for all they were extroverts they were surprisingly shy about romance - probably Arthur's fault again - and would probably be more comfortable discussing their feelings away from nosy family and friends.

Still, she needed the power of partial anonymity if she wanted to be able to provide the push, and that meant she had to be available with a reasonable excuse -

Wait, wasn't Matt's Thanksgiving celebration coming up soon? And she knew they prefered to keep that to their direct family as opposed to Alfred's. Sure, she wouldn't be there, but Francis would…

"You know Matthew's Thanksgiving celebration?"

Francis smiled as the plan started to dawn on him as well. "I am aware of it, yes. Please continue."

"Well…"

~0~0~

Texas looked both awed and a bit afraid.

"Alright, I'll bite, how'd you manage this one?"

California smiled innocently, turning to her cousin. "I don't know what you mean - it was Mr. Bonnefoy who encouraged them, not me."

The larger State snorted. "Yeah, and I'm a donkey's uncle. You had something to do with them getting over their dance around each other, which let me tell you is a relief after seeing their puppy eyes all the time. Was I ever that bad?"

California thought back to when New Jersey and Texas first started dating. "Yes."

Texas flipped her off, scowling half-heartedly when she just laughed good naturedly in response.

"Aw, c'mon, you know you love me for getting you two together. And you did ask, you know."

He huffed, turning back to the two Nations now teasingly bumping hips while they cooked the massive dinner meant to feed all sixty something people in the house. His nose scrunched, head shaking in exasperation, before he turned back to his younger cousin. "I won't say nothin' about this to him, but I'm not covering for you if either of them finds out, ya hear?"

"That's all I ask for, Sammy." She grinned, bumping his shoulder with her fist.

"By the way, did France ever tell you exactly how he got them to talk?" Texas asked, frowning suddenly.

"Actually, no. I figured he just wanted it to keep it a surprise." She frowned as well, turning back to the kitchen just as Alfred turned around.

The Nation looked at her, and California suddenly got a bad feeling, only enhanced by the frown she saw him sporting. She was fairly certain she could borrow Virginia's car and make it to the airport in time to get away, and it wasn't like Alfred could ground her if she was hiding in Europe, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more of Isabel's history, and modern day trials and tribulations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human (State) names:  
> Isabel Gomez (California)   
> Susannah van Laren (New Jersey)  
> Samuel Rogers (Texas)   
> Benjamin van Laren (New York)  
> Adela Mendoza (New Mexico)  
> Teresa Mendoza (Arizona)

"Is this her, then?"

Isabel looked up from her game, which mostly involved her hopping over small stone 'bridges' made by flat rocks laid out over 'canyons' she'd carved out with a stick. The man who'd first found her wandering outside the mission chasing lizards months ago was approaching, another man with him. She didn't recognize him, but something told her he was important.

"It is; none of us have been able to find out where she came from, so we've been looking after her in the meantime."

"I see!" The younger looking man replied, looking down to her thoughtfully. "She's very cute! Does she have a name?"

"We've named her Isabel."

Isabel let herself be picked up by the newcomer, though she wasn't fond of being held out at arms length while he looked her over.

"A good choice," He agreed after a bit, bringing her close to cuddle. "She'll grow up into a fine woman with a name like that."

After a bit to realize what was happening, and some more to decide that she was fine with it, Isabel hugged the man back. After a short bit he pulled her away and set her down, ruffling her hair before turning his attention back to the missionary.

She lingered, waiting for some further acknowledgement, but when they started to wander away while discussing the current state of some place called Spain, she decided to go back to her interrupted game, slightly miffed but not willing to bring it up after the smacking she'd gotten last time.

The next time she saw him was at the evening meal, sitting with some of the other missionaries. They were enjoying the drink she wasn't allowed to have yet, a sense of cheer permeating the atmosphere and making the gloom of earlier fade away like morning fog.

"I was wondering, by the way," The newcomer asked between drinks, looking around at anyone. "Have any of you found gold around here, or perhaps other valuables?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid," One of the other men lamented. "The indians here are barely taking to civilization as it is, and none of them seem to recognize anything valuable we try to show them."

"Gold?" Isabel asked, curious.

The newcomer glanced to her, digging through his pouch before pulling out a shiny round chunk of metal, with symbols and pictures on both sides. "It looks like this, but it could be in other forms, like rocks or statues or pebbles."

She shook her head, frowning as she looked back up to it. "I haven't seen anythin' like it."

He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment before putting the coin away, turning back to the other men and once again leaving her isolated from the conversation. After a few more minutes of picking at her food she sighed, finishing it before leaving the table and returning to her room, wondering just what made such shiny material so important.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

[Utah, New Mexico/Arizona (twins) = eleven years old; Nevada, Colorado = four years old]

[All except Nevada are girls]

"Kids!" California shouted, turning away from the stove she was cooking on briefly to look for the wayward child. "Dinner!"

"Coming!" Came a returning shout, the patter of feet following. In seconds Utah had skidded into the room, her messy braid half unravelled as she settled down at the table.

"And where are your sisters?" The state asked, bending down briefly to pick up a fussy Nevada (who'd been tugging on her skirt for the past minute) before going back to cooking with her available hand.

"Outside," The oldest (or so she claimed) of the children replied, kicking her feet impatiently. "They're showing Colorado how to catch lizards."

"Are they now," California frowned lightly. "Can you go and let them know dinner's almost ready?"

"Okay!" With that Utah leapt out of her chair again, almost tripping as she ran out the door. Shaking her head in amusement, she turned back to the stove, lightly humming an old song from her mission days to Nevada as he continued to cling to her shirt.

The two of them startled as they heard a scream not long after, California thankful she'd just dampened the fire as she ran out, the youngest still clinging on as much as his four year old body could. She skidded to a stop in the street, seeing a panicking Utah holding onto an equally frightened Colorado, while New Mexico was attempting to get Texas to let go of her and her twin Arizona.

"Texas!" California almost snarled, remembering his attitude from last time. "Let them go!"

"Haven't you heard, cousin?" Texas tilted his head back, smirking. "Their territories recently joined the Confederacy; they aren't part of the Union anymore."

"What?" She balked, before recentering herself. "That doesn't mean you can just take them from their own home!"

"You still have the option to join us, too." Texas offered. "I know there are people here who sympathize with us; you could make a name for yourself away from Alfred and the northerners who turned on you."

California recalled her first and so far only meeting with the other States, when she'd travelled east with Al to confirm her new status before the others. The looks of disgust and annoyance she'd gotten had made her antsy enough that she'd rushed through it all and gone home as soon as she could, only to find three new little territories from her former land waiting for her.

She also recalled the sympathy Alfred had given her after the meeting but before her journey home, and how he'd explained that they were just on edge from their own issues with him and that none of it was her fault at all, and that he was proud to have her no matter what-

California stood her ground, and told him, "Fuck off, Texas."

Texas scowled, pulling at the twins. "You'll come to see us in the right eventually, Cali. Don't come crying later when your precious Union falls apart."

New Mexico, who had had enough, screeched loudly and bit down on his wrist, causing Texas to swear as he let her go. California rushed forward as the girl ran away from the Confederate State, letting the child hide behind her while she tried to grab Arizona away as well.

Texas, not to be tricked twice, threw the young girl over his shoulder and, ignoring her screams and crying, lept onto the horse he'd brought with him and took off, leaving California feeling just a bit emptier as her kids cried around her.

Crouching down to run a hand through New Mexico's hair, California began cursing Texas' name and praying for the war to be averted or crushed soon so that the twins would be back together again.

Damn the Confederacy; didn't they see what they were doing to everyone around them?

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"New bosses  _suck_." Isabel complained, flopping down on Sue's couch with a frustrated groan.

"I thought you were glad to be getting him in," The eastern State asked, turning from where she'd been watering her potted plants.

"Yeah, but that was before I found out he isn't actually gonna do any of the shit he promised," She sighed, resting an arm over her eyes. "The gay community was so happy to have someone saying he'd support them in office…"

"Maybe you can nag him about it?"

"Maybe," The western State sighed. "You know what's worse, though? When I went to introduce myself to him, his first response was 'Oh, you're Spanish.' Like, what the fuck even? Does no one even realize that all those old Spanish missions they like visiting might mean I was, y'know, Hispanic?"

"He  _is_  Austrian; you can't expect him to know your history as well as your people." Sue replied, finally setting the watering can down to prod at her friend to sit up so she could sit down.

"He's been here for ages though, which is why he could run for governor. Governator." Isabel snorted in amusement. "Honestly, that has to be one of the best nicknames ever."

"Please don't call him that in front of Alfred," Sue pleaded with a sigh. "We've already heard enough jokes about it without you encouraging him."

The western State ignored that, continuing on with her rambling complaints. "That reminds me, there was this other dude who came into office recently who implied I was fat. Like, seriously, he seemed to think there was something wrong with actually having a waistline."

"You?" Sue laughed. "Please tell me you shoved his opinion where it belongs."

Isabel snorted. "I told him that unless he'd been starved and abandoned as a kid and  _then_  had to suffer through the 20s after that, he could keep his damn mouth shut, and that I actually like having curves, thanks."

"Damn straight," The eastern state praised, the two fistbumping.

"How've things been for you, by the way?" Isabel asked.

"Eh, they've been." Sue shrugged. "Ben's a pain, Ginny's overbearing, the others still can't get along, and I think the South is getting even more annoying lately."

"I'll talk to Sammy when I can, but the rest of them I can't help much with." The western State shrugged.

"Texas?" Sue asked, Isabel humming in confirmation. "Meh, he hasn't been as bad as the others, but it'd be nice if you could get him to talk to them or something."

Isabel raised an eyebrow at the comment, but replied with "I'll see."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"You tried to do  _what_?" Isabel asked, staring down her cousin in sheer disbelief.

Sam shrank a bit in his seat, looking rather sheepish as he explained, "Dennys had its usual Valentine's special going, so I thought she might like it, but she sorta freaked out and now I can't reach her-"

"No wonder!" She sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "What the fuck made you think  _Dennys_  was in any way  _romantic_?"

"...you were the one who mentioned she liked diners?" He pointed out.

" _Real_  diners. Y'know, like the ones Alfred always likes to go to when we have state meetings?"

He frowned. "And?"

Isabel resisted the urge to cry. "One of the things Sue is most proud of is her diners, and you basically took her to the diner equivalent of  _McDonalds_  for Valentines Day."

He finally seemed to get it, letting his head drop into his hands while swearing under his breath. "What do I do, then?"

"What you're going to do," Isabel leaned forward, pulling his head up to lock eyes with him just so he could see her serious expression. "Is exactly what I tell you to do, understand?"

"Yes ma'am." Sam agreed instantly, wanting to avoid annoying her even more.

"Good. Now, here's what you do first…"

~0~0~

Susannah sighed and rolled over on her bed, a half-empty plate of comfort food beside her. It'd been two days since the disaster of a date, and most of her anger had melted away into a slowly churning melancholy.

She really hadn't meant to go off on Sam quite as harshly as she had, but she'd been so startled and offended at where they'd gone for Valentines Day - for their first major couple's holiday together! - that she'd just let her temper go. It hadn't even struck her until she'd gotten home that he probably didn't even realize why Dennys wasn't the same thing as a diner - heck, Isabel had even lamented his cheap eating habits dozens of times in the past!

He hadn't even called since about two hours after she'd left, according to her house phone and her cell. She didn't want to think about what that meant.

The doorbell rang, drawing Sue from her thoughts as she sat up. It rang again, finally drawing her from her sheets to investigate.

The door opened to one of the last people she expected to see. "Sam?"

"Hey, Sue," He replied, juggling a pot of violets, a box of donuts, and a dvd case for The Princess Bride. "Brought some things I thought you'd like."

"I-" She paused, not sure what to ask first.

"It took me a bit to realize how I mucked it up the other day, so I figured I'd make it up to you. How does curling up on the couch and watching a sappy movie sound for a late Valentines Day?"

Sue felt a laugh creeping up her throat, stretching her mouth into a grin. "That sounds amazing."

(It wasn't until later she guess at, then learned about, Isabel's involvement. But with Sam sleeping beside her in bed and her mood the best it'd been in weeks, it was hard to be more than mildly amused.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's another installment of short drabbles with Cali and friends. And for the anon who was complaining about how I aged her – she is literally the personification of ALTA CALIFORNIA before she's the state of California – she is 100% Hispanic! And seriously, you consider ONE town claiming independence for like a week is anything serious? It was literally the equivalent of an eight year old crying 'You can't tell me what to do!'
> 
> Sighs. Trust me, I think I know what I'm doing with her – I've been messing around with headcanons about her for like over a year. If I'm writing state ocs, I'm taking it damned seriously.
> 
> (Also, I completely rescind my comment about it being for less experienced people. JFC it takes a lot of thought in order to get everything right!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The focus turns to New Jersey in this part, with some scenes from her history spanning from the 1600s to the modern day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant Names:
> 
> New Jersey: Susannah & the diminutive Sanne  
> New York: Benjamin  
> Scotland: Iain

_[New Jersey’s state animal is the horse]_

Once, when she was very small, _Nederland_ took her to see the horses he and his explorers had brought with them from Europe, and Sanne remembers them as being the most wonderful creatures, unlike anything she’s ever seen before.

They’d been set loose into a fenced pasture to exercise—

( _what are fences?_ Sanne had asked;

_we make fences to hold our property_ , _Nederland_ had replied, and it takes centuries before Sanne understands just why her stomach had clenched at those words)

—and Sanne was enchanted by the way they frolicked and tossed their heads.

The image is vivid in her mind, even centuries later.

_Touch?_ She remembers asking _Nederland_ , tugging on his sleeve and pointing to the big black Friesian that _Nederland_ himself rode.

_Ja_ , he’d told her before whistling to the horse, who came to him eagerly.  He’d stroked the horse’s nose softly, and even then Sanne recognized that he was gentler with the horse than he ever was with her or Ben—she remembers his gruff kindness fondly, sometimes, but he’d also tried to civilize them, had dismantled their survival skills and then left them in favor of Europe, which they’d never live up to.

Still, this is a good memory, because _Nederland_ takes her hand gently, uncurling her fingers and holding her palm up to the horse’s nose.

_Let him know your scent first_ , he’d said, and then he’d smiled as Sanne giggled.

_Tickles_ , she told him.   _Soft_.

_He likes you_ , came the reply.

And Sanne had stroked the horse’s nose until he tired of the touch and took off across the field again.

( _Always listen to the animal_ , _Nederland_ said when she asked him to bring the horse back.   _Otherwise it will take you by surprise when it explodes_.  Sanne hadn’t understood it at the time, but one day she will remember those words while standing on the battlefields in Trenton and Monmouth and Morristown, and she will revel in England’s shock when he realizes just who is turning her musket on him—not the lady you bred now, she’ll laugh, half lost in the battle-madness—because this time, she’s the one who’s exploding and it is _glorious_.)

They stood together for awhile longer, watching the horses play, and it becomes one of her favorite childhood memories.

It is also the first time she falls in love—with horses and with freedom—and Susannah will never forget that feeling.

———

_~1690_

_[Scottish colonists began settling in Perth Amboy, then part of East Jersey, in the 1680s]_

“C’mere, lass,” Scotland says to her one particularly bright spring morning.  “I’ve brought you something.”

Curious, New Jersey follows him from the garden, padding barefoot across the grass and toward the stables.  She’s glad when Scotland makes no mention of her muddy feet or messily braided hair—unlike Mister England, Scotland doesn’t seem to mind that she’s not so good at being a proper lady.  He just grins at her when she reaches for his hand.

It’s hard keeping up with his long strides, though, so he sweeps her up into his arms instead, setting her on his broad shoulder while she giggles and threads her fingers through his dark red curls.

“What’ve you brought me, Uncle Iain?”  She asks.  The big, easy-going man is her favorite of all the people who have come to her land, since he is always willing to make time for her when he comes to visit his settlement in Perth Amboy.

“You’ll see, m’girl,” he replies, grinning crookedly up at her.  Scotland never seems to stop smiling, at least around her, and is always ready with a kind word and a gentle hand.

Scotland carries her into the stables and then sets her down before a stall.  Inside that stall stands a bright bay pony, which lowers its head to sniff at New Jersey’s hair.  Her eyes widen, and she stares at it, enchanted.

“She’s a Galloway pony,” Scotland murmurs, reaching forward to stroke the mare’s ears.  “And according to Ireland, every girl should have a pony.  I thought that you might like her.”

“What’s her name?”  New Jersey asks, reaches out to pet the pony’s nose.  She has loved horses ever since Netherlands had shown her his, although she’s never had one of her own.

“She doesn’t have one yet,” Scotland replies, smiling down at her.  “That’s for you to decide.”  He seems enchanted himself, pleased with the way that she bites her lip and ponders.  He can tell by her face that this is the best gift she’s ever been given.

After a moment, New Jersey asks, “What’s the Scottish word for star?”  The mare has one on her forehead, stark against the luminous bay of the rest of her.

Scotland’s grin widens.  “ _Rionnag_ , or _reul_.”  He turns his gaze from New Jersey to the mare, who shifts in her stall.

“Rionnag,” New Jersey repeats, tasting the word in her mouth.  She likes it.  “That’s who she’ll be.”

“I think it will suit her,” Scotland says.  Then he takes her hand and lifts her into his arms again.  “Now, how would you like to learn to care for her?  Then I’ll teach you to ride.”

New Jersey’s face lights up, and Scotland’s heart feels fit to burst.  He beams at her, entranced by her delight as she flings her arms around his neck.  He laughs and cuddles her close.

“Yes please!”

———

“England is going to _kill_ us,” New York says, staring at the broken vase.  It had been a gift from one of England’s rich proprietors, and now it lay in pieces across the floor.  And if he doesn’t, their governess will.  “We’re going to _die_.”

“Maybe we could fix it,” New Jersey replies.  She kneels down to gather the larger shards, piling them into her apron—luckily, it hadn’t completely shattered.  “We might be able to.”

“I’ve got glue,” New York says dubiously.  “But it won’t look right.  They’ll be able to tell something’s off about it.  The glaze is chipped.”  He points to one of the shards in New Jersey’s hand.

Behind them, Twiggy, New York’s big wolfhound, whines, waiting to be let out.  At the sound, the two colonies share a look and a nod.

“The dog did it.”

———

046\. King

“I’ll take no tea,” she says, lifting her chin.  She meets England’s eyes squarely.

_And I’ll follow no kings_ remains unsaid.

080\.  Healing

“I’m going to do it now,” Pennsylvania says to her, “try to relax.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” New Jersey replies, grumbling, “when you’re the one with the needle.”

Still, Pennsylvania’s hands are gentle as he stitches her skin back together, and he doesn’t say a word about the tears rolling down her cheeks.

095\.  New Year

_December 31, 1776_

They spend the New Year freezing in Trenton, miserable and wet and bloody.  They huddle close together—herself, Pennsylvania, and Delaware—hoping to share body heat.

It’s worth it, New Jersey tells herself; freedom is worth it.

———

_Winter 1777, New Jersey_

New Jersey huddles as close to Delaware and Pennsylvania as she can, but it does no good—the larger bodies of her companions cannot compensate for faults of her threadbare cloak and the thin bandages wound around her bloody feet in place of boots.  The wind is fierce and bitterly cold, and the three states don’t stand a chance.

She finds herself drifting, her mind foggy, and eventually lets her head loll back against Delaware’s shoulder.  She stares out into the night and tries not to let her despair overwhelm her.  She cannot give in now.

In the quiet, she feels Delaware twine his fingers in hers, and Pennsylvania is a solid, comforting weight against her side.

When morning comes, the General gives the order to march.

“We must reach the town soon,” he tells them.  “We can rest in Morristown.”

“It’s still a ways off,” New Jersey whispers to Pennsylvania.  “I don’t think the weather will hold that long.”

This is her land, and she can feel the change in her bones—a storm is coming, and it hangs heavily over their heads.  New Jersey shifts uneasily, her feet numb from the cold.

“We have to hope that it will,” Delaware says as he comes up beside them.  “We have no other choice.”

Delaware is right, and New Jersey knows it—they’ll die if they stay here.  But she can’t help thinking that they’re risking just as much if they go.

—

_[Later]_

The wind blows harshly, cutting through the threadbare cloak New Jersey clutches around herself.  She shivers hard, teeth clacking, and hunches forward in an effort to block the wind, which sends snow flying into her face.

It doesn’t work.

Beside her, Pennsylvania stumbles, steadied only by Delaware’s hands.  He lets Pennsylvania lean against him, though he’s hardly strong enough to keep himself upright.  It’s moments like this, with the wind biting them and their bare feet slipping on the ground, that New Jersey wonders if it’s worth it.

When they’d decided to take their independence, none of them had realized just what “independence” would entail, not really.  New Jersey would never have guessed that she’d be walking to Morristown in a tattered uniform not even fit for a beggar.

She blinks back tears and tries to fight the hopelessness.  The only thing she can do, she thinks, is to keep walking.

Their footprints are bright red against the snow.

———

The soil is cool and damp under New Jersey’s hands, and she revels in it as she pauses in her digging; today, she’s finally planting her tomatoes, the pride of her vegetable garden.   She can’t help the feeling of giddiness that overwhelms her as she breathes in the scent of earth and fresh spring air.  

New Jersey lifts her head and gazes out across her yard, smiling to herself as a breeze cools the sweat on her forehead.  She shifts, leaning back onto her heels, and then turns her face to the sun.

For all that she’s grown well-used to the fast-paced life of the modern city and her densely populated suburbs, New Jersey has come by the nickname “the Garden State” honestly.

With a grin, she turns back to her tomatoes.

———

"What, exactly, is in Taylor Ham?"  Texas asks, watching New Jersey dubiously as she fries the meat.

New Jersey shrugs.  ”Pork product,” she says nonchalantly, “and assorted spices.”

"Pork _product_?  What kind of product?”

She shrugs again.  ”It’s a mystery.”  She sounds almost pleased with herself, as if that’s something to be proud of.  Texas supposes it is; Taylor Ham—also called pork roll—is a _Jersey Thing_ through and through, and lord knows the woman is proud of her state.

He bites back a sigh as she shifts the meat onto a roll with egg and cheese.  Then she sets the plate down before him and sends him a smile.  

Texas can’t say no to her and New Jersey knows it.  So he takes the sandwich and bites into it generously and discovers that—

Well, ‘pork product’ isn’t so bad after all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the part with Scotland: After England won New Netherlands in the 1670s, the colony was split into New York and New Jersey (and technically Delaware, which had been part of New Sweden). Then, New Jersey was split further, into East and West Jersey. East Jersey was settled by both Quakers and Scots, and it was the Scottish who had most influence in the area. The two halves remained split--apart from a few years in the 1680s as part of the [Dominion of New England](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dominion_of_New_England)\--until 1702 when it was reunited as the Province of New Jersey. Since Susannah represents both sections, I've continued to use "New Jersey" for convenience.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America and New Jersey have an unpleasant encounter in a speakeasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names  
> New Jersey: Susannah  
> South Carolina (mentioned): Charles

_Atlantic City, New Jersey 1926_

_\---_

The speakeasy is dim and smoky, and America grimaces as he steps inside, ducking his head as he passes the doorman.  The air is filled with jazz music and laughter and the hazy cigarette smoke makes it hard to concentrate on finding who he’s looking for.

But he knows New Jersey is here, can feel that she is in his bones, the way he knows where any of his states are when he steps onto their land.  Still, it’s hard to find her amid the throng of people swaying about the speakeasy, eager for a taste of illegal hooch.

America frowns, uneasiness roiling in his gut.  He knows the states aren’t pleased with the amendment, but New Jersey, at least, for all her stubborn pride has rarely flouted her disobedience of federal law.  She’s often had a tendency to do as she pleases, it’s true, but to act so flagrantly that Colonel Reeves has felt the need to call America to rein her in?  She must be very upset with him.

He’d rather not have to deal with her, not what he’s got other things to take care of, things to settle with France and the rest of Europe—

The throng of people crowding the speakeasy shifts, and America finally catches a glimpse of New Jersey, lounging languidly against the bar, laughing as she drinks a toast to one of the handsome young men attending her.

He has heard tell of New Jersey complaining about the popular fashion, how the straight loose dresses don’t suit her at all, but as far as America can see, she’s managing to pull it off just fine, no matter that she’ll never have the thin, boyish figure that’s now in vogue.  

In any case, other aspects of the popular look _do_ suit her, and America can certainly admit that, no matter how irritated he might be with the state.  The blonde bob, curled and pinned back with bright feathers, expertly frames her face, and very red lipstick gives her teeth the appearance of gleaming brightly in the dim light.  She looks intimidating, like a queen attending her court, head held high as she surveys her people.  America supposes that that is exactly what she’s going for and steels himself as he moves closer.

When he’s near enough to catch her attention, he takes a breath and calls her name.  “Susannah!”

New Jersey stiffens just slightly at the sound of his voice, and America is grimly satisfied.  Good, he thinks.  She remembers his authority.

He watches the way she forces herself to relax, turning to him with a tight, controlled smile.  “Alfred,” she says coolly.  “Fancy seein’ you here.”  She pushes herself away from the bar, the fringe of her dress shifting and baring her knees as she walks toward him.  “It’s fine,” she says to one of the men, waving him off when he reaches to her.  

America can’t help but be impressed as she saunters to him, hardly stumbling, and slips her arm into his.  He can smell the smoke and alcohol and men’s cologne on her and closes his eyes in an effort to quell his frustration.

“What brings you to this fine establishment?”  New Jersey asks, voice cloying.  

“Don’t be so pleased with yourself, Sue,” is all he replies, glaring down at her.  “We need to talk.”

New Jersey shrugs, but she leads him through a discretely placed door into one of the speakeasy’s quiet backrooms, settling him down at a small table nestled against the wall.  She turns away from him to putter about the cabinets, bending to pull out glasses and a bottle of amber liquor.  “Whiskey?” she offers blithely, grinning when he shakes his head.  “Your loss.  She shrugs again, feigning nonchalance.  “Just got it in from down south,” she adds, reaching for a bucket of ice he hadn’t noticed earlier.  “Hand picked by Charlie and everything.”  

She can’t quite hide her smirk as he stiffens at the mention of South Carolina’s name.  He knows, knows with absolute certainty that New Jersey—or any of the North, really—had not quite forgiven South Carolina for what had happened, and even he doesn’t fully trust him, even decades later, so what are they doing—  America cuts the thought off in its tracks as New Jersey continues to speak.  He’d _wanted_ them to start getting along again.

“You told us we gotta stop fightin’ amongst ourselves,” she says as if she’s read his mind as she calmly sits across from him.  “And most of us’ve found something we all can agree on.”

“Illegal liquor?”  America snaps.  He inhales sharply, clenching his fists and loosening them.  “Look, Sue, I know that this law is hard—”

New Jersey snorts.  “Hard ain’t exactly the word I’d use for it.”

“Sue.”

New Jersey raises a hand and motions for him to continue.

America sighs.  “Colonel Reeves had been expecting your help in enforcing the law, and he is mighty disappointed—”

“Old Ira?”  New Jersey interrupts, snorting dismissively.  “He’s hopeless,” she says.  “Just as hopeless as that law he fights to defend.  Send him and all his pigs back to D.C., where they belong.”  

Her voice is so disdainful that America knows he can’t expect her to cooperate with him.

“Now, this isn’t exactly how I would have gone about curbing public indecency, but the law’s been passed and now we’ve all got to deal with it.  Surely you understand that,”  America pleads, hoping his tone of voice will soften her a bit.

“We’ve all got to deal with it?”  New Jersey snaps.  “You haven’t had to deal with nothin’, Alfie, not while you’ve been off gallivantin’ across France for the past five years.”

America flinches, but now he understands where some of her anger comes from.  “Sue,” he says quietly, “you know that there’ve been things to do over in Europe, what with the end of the War and all.”

New Jersey rolls her eyes.  “Not things that’d keep you there for all of five years,” she argues.  “No, you’ve been too busy mooning over France to come home and do your job.”  She clenches her jaw.  “Not that that’s anything new.”  She remembers how he left them high and dry after the War Between States, disappearing west instead of helping them to put the pieces back together.

America rears back, stung.  “Sue,” he says, voice quiet in his anger.  “That is far out of line.  It’s not fair and you know it.”  It isn’t like he could have done anything to stop the law from being passed, anyway, and New Jersey knows that, too.  

She shrugs.  “I’m not particularly interested in being fair, Alfred.  And I’m not interested in protecting this law.  I _am_ interested in making money, though, and there’s plenty of that in bootlegging.  And if it upsets the Feds?  Well all the better.”

New Jersey tilts her head back and swallows the rest of her drink.  Then she stands, tossing him a fierce, feral grin, and for a moment America thinks that—venting her frustrations on him—had been all she’d needed to forgive him.

“You’re welcome to come back,” she says archly, “when you’re not being such a bluenose.”  She pauses, eyes narrowing.  “And when you’re ready to deal with your own problems, instead of nosing about Europe’s.”

New Jersey turns and, without so much as a look back at him, saunters out of the room.  If she’s a little too drunk to walk steady and a little too tense to be happy, well, it hardly matters in a place like this.

America watches her go, chest tight.  He doesn’t know what to think about the encounter, only knows that he didn’t want it to go like this.  With a groan, leans back in his chair and resists the urge to bury his face in his hands, as if this were all a bad dream.

No, he thinks with a sigh.  It isn’t a dream at all.  And if New Jersey is this angry, then he has to wonder just how mad the others are, too.  He squares his shoulders and straightens, resolving to find out.

And then he’ll do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prohibition in New Jersey was massively unpopular for a few reasons, one of which included the large Irish and Italian immigrant populations who were mostly Catholic and for whom alcohol consumption was culturally important. New Jersey was one of the last states to ratify the amendment (and one of the first to repeal it) and wound up generally ignoring the law. Atlantic City, New Jersey was often called "America's Playground" for its loose liquor and gambling laws and was a center of organized crime.
> 
> There are stories of state judges accepting bribes to look the other way when people were put on trial for selling illegal liquor. The state Assembly was said to have made a deal with the state police so that they might have their annual dinner in Atlantic City without being disturbed. My favorite story though is one about two federal agents who were sent to shut down an illegal brewery. When they arrived at the brewery, they found a mob of people waiting to defend it, and during the confrontation, one of the agents' guns went off. A couple local police agents nearby heard the shots and came to investigate. Unfortunately for the federal agents, the cops were not on their side--they arrested the agents for not having proper New Jersey gun permits and left the citizens--and the brewery--quite alone.
> 
> Colonel Ira Reeves was a retired army officer sent by the federal government to sent to New Jersey in 1926 to put a stop to all of the flagrant disobedience of the law. After about six months, he quit and declared Prohibition a failure that had just made crime and corruption worse.
> 
> By the way, "bluenose" is slang for someone who is Puritanical and moralistic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred meets Alta California, and Susannah and Isabel become unlikely friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human (State) names:  
> Isabel Gomez (California)   
> Susannah van Laren (New Jersey)  
> Samuel Rogers (Texas)   
> Benjamin van Laren (New York)

" _So Alta California and Texas are mine then."_

" _For all the good that does you."_

" _Does California have a personification?"_

" _Yes, but good luck finding her. Never saw much point in keeping track of the runt; nothing but cows and horses up there."_

Alfred sighed and rubbed at his face as the ship he was on pulled into Monterey harbor. He'd hoped it'd be easy to find his newest territory, but apparently neither Texas nor Mexico had bothered to check in on the (presumably) kid in, well… ever. It still bothered him that, even with her mess of a government, the other Nation hadn't even bothered to look in on her own territories once since she'd broken away from Spain.

And now he had to track down the kid himself, and didn't even know where to start.

He'd slowly worked his way up the coast, stopping in at each of the ports and wandering for a day or two until he was sure she wasn't there before moving on to the next one. This was one of the last stops, only San Francisco coming after this, and then he'd have to try inland, which would take a lot longer since the land still wasn't quite his yet.

(God, this would have been easier if he could just pace the miles normally, but that probably wasn't gonna happen for at least a few more months, when the new claims settled in.)

The more he saw of the land, though, the more he felt bad for the kid. For all the acres she apparently had, she had next to no people to call her own - a mere ten thousand spread out over hundreds of miles with only empty ranchlands between them. The same stretch of coastline on the east coast had had millions more even before his revolution, not to mention more than a dozen personifications to speak to.

Once the ramp was down, Alfred stepped off the ship and started making his way with the others into the small town, eying the crates of tallow and hide to be loaded onboard already waiting to the side. Reminded again of Mexico's flippant comment about what was up here, he frowned and continued on.

His first stop was the small general store, where a lot of what came in went to before being sold to the locals. After a short chat with the owner and directions to a place he could get food, he turned to exit the store only to almost bump into a little girl, no older than seven, who darted inside with a piece of paper in her hands.

He watched her hand the letter up and over the counter along with some money, rocking on her heels while waiting for the owner to collect the things on the list and write his own note before handing the goods, the note, and the change over to her. She smiled and waved, darting back out into the streets and down the dirt path.

"Who was that?" Alfred asked after she left.

"Oh, just a street rat; doesn't speak much English, but she's good at running messages and goods around, so the town just lets her be."

"Huh," the Nation muttered, thanking him before leaving, deciding to keep an eye out for the kid.

The next time he saw her, some of the local militia (or former, it seemed) had cornered her, trying to get her to give up whatever she was carrying now. Which, as it turned out, was a large basket of produce, though a sprig of basil had fallen to the ground in her attempts to keep it away from them.

"Is there a problem here?" Alfred asked once he was close enough, drawing the attention of all three.

"This little thief here isn't handing over the goods she took," One of the men complained, shooting her a dirty look.

The Nation raised a brow, looking to her and seeing the note tucked between her hand and the edge of the basket, asking in Spanish. "Hey, can I see the note?"

She blinked in surprise, but after carefully shifting her hand so she could keep a hold of the basket she held it out, biting her lip as Alfred read it over, nodding to himself.

"Right, this says she was taking one basket of basil, lettuce, and carrots to a Ms Sutters at the far end of town. Seems to me that she's not stealing anything, seeing as that's exactly what's in there. Unless you want to bring this up to the local governor?"

The men looked between each other nervously, shaking their heads before leaving. Alfred sighed and rubbed at his neck, turning back to the girl who was picking up the dropped goods and brushing them off before putting them back. "You alright?"

She looked up to him, nodding once. "Yes, thank you."

Glancing the way the men had gone, Alfred asked with an understanding smile, "Want some help taking those where they need to go?"

She frowned, but after a bit accepted, taking off down the path again while Alfred followed, the sight unusual enough that a few people stopped to stare after them.

"Do you have any parents?" He asked after a bit.

"No," She replied, shaking her head. "I used to live at the mission, but it closed, so I live on my own now."

"At your age?" He frowned. "Don't you get lonely?"

"It's alright," She smiled up at him, though it looked rather sad. "I talk to the people in town sometimes, and they give me enough to get by."

Alfred didn't reply right away, leaving the two to finish the walk in silence, the girl giving her basket to the older woman and getting a smile, a pat on the head, and a bit of cash in exchange. It was only on the trip back, when they were out of earshot of anyone else, that he finally decided to ask.

"Are you Alta California?"

She twirled on her heels, staring up at him wide eyed and tense. "What did you call me?"

"Alta California," He repeated. "You're too young to be on your own, and last I was told the missions closed almost two decades ago."

The young Territory didn't reply for a bit, looking torn between running and staying. Eventually she asked, "Who are you?"

Alfred smiled. "I'm America, but you can call me Alfred."

"Oh," She sighed, gaze sinking a bit. "You own me now."

"No," He responded sharply, drawing her gaze back up to his. "You are under my care now, which is completely different. I am not going to just leave you here on your own like they did, alright?"

She didn't look like she believed him, but nodded quietly, causing him to sigh and run a hand through his hair. "What's your human name, by the way?"

"...Isabel." She responded after a bit.

"That's a nice name," He responded, offering a hand to her with a smile. "Do you want to come with me?"

"...Alright..." She spoke quietly enough that he barely picked it up, after a moment's hesitance placing her hand in his own.

It'd take a while to earn her trust, it seemed, but he had plenty of time to work with. And Alfred F. Jones was not going to leave this poor kid all on her own for any longer than he needed to.

(The East could take care of itself for a little while.)

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Hello?" Isabel called out after knocking on the apartment door she'd been directed to, frowning when she got no reply. "New York? Are you there?"

She huffed; really, if the eastern state was gonna make her come all the way out here to the other coast just to discuss resource allotment and troop movements, he could at least have the graciousness to be there when she arrived. And her boss wondered why she didn't like dealing with anyone east of the Mississippi.

After a minute the door clicked open, the western State ready to grumble about New York's tardiness before realizing it wasn't a guy who was glaring at her now.

"He's not here; who's asking for him?"

"I'm California." Isabel replied. "Who're you?"

"New Jersey," The other State replied tersely, frowning more after receiving a name. "You're the little upstart who bought her own statehood."

"And did a fine good job of looking after myself to boot," Isabel agreed sharply. "Can I come in now, or at least get directions to where New York actually is so I can get these supply movement talks over with already?"

"His boss called him in for something; he won't be back for a least an hour." New Jersey hesitated, obviously tempted to shut the door, but eventually let the western State in. "Just try not to touch anything."

"Wasn't planning on it," Isabel rolled her eyes but came in, looking around as she made her way down the short hall to the living room, about to settle into a seat when she spied the pot of violets on the table.

Huh, she hadn't known the guy liked flowers. They actually even looked like they were in good condition.

"Something wrong?" New Jersey asked from behind her.

"No, just surprised he has flowers is all," Isabel shrugged. "Never struck me as the gardening type."

"Those are mine, actually," The other state replied. "Since I'm usually over here to keep an eye on his place while he runs around doing Al's paperwork, I decided to bring some of my plants over to liven it up."

"You garden?" California glanced to the other in surprise.

"I  _am_  the Garden State for a reason," New Jersey replied dryly, smug as could be. "I can grow pretty much anything you can name."

"I dunno about that," Isabel grinned. "I grow an awful lot of things back at my place myself."

"Oh really?" New Jersey challenged. "Like what?"

The western state sat back, looking up as she counted off. "Apricots, avocados, almonds, artichokes, dates, figs, grapes, kiwi fruit, olives, peaches, pistachios, plums, pomegranates, clover, walnuts, carrots, beans, apples, broccoli, and cauliflower; that's not including the flowers I grow right next to the house, like my poppies, baby blues, hyacinth, daffodils, and morning glories."

New Jersey whistled, a bit wide eyed now. "How do you even have room for all that?"

"I own about ten acres of land near Monterey," Isabel shrugged. "I haven't had a lot of time for it since we joined the war, but I still like to spend time there relaxing."

New Jersey made a face. "Yeesh, that's almost as much land as Alfred's place in Virginia. And you look after all that by yourself?"

"Well, sometimes my siblings come in and lend a hand, but for the most part, yeah."

"Wow," The eastern State looked impressed. "And here I thought my own three acres of land was impressive. Though I doubt half of what you grow would last all that long up here."

"What do you grow, by the way?" California asked, genuinely curious.

"Mostly flowers, though I also have a vegetable patch and some fruit trees." The two had settled down into seats facing each other by this point, getting more into the topic as they went on. "I've got tomatoes and cucumbers, broccoli, sweetcorn, spinach, and cauliflower, as well as apples, figs, plums, and blueberries. As for flowers…" She hummed in thought for a second, tapping her leg. "Violets obviously… tulips, crocuses, honeysuckle, bee balm, black eye susans, bleeding hearts, mistflower, climbing roses, beardtongue, wisteria, and goldenrod. I've been trying to find more to add, but like you said, the war's been eating at my free time to look after them all."

Isabel nodded in sympathy. "Yeah, it can be a pain. I wouldn't mind trading a few of my breeds over of you want some more variety - they should be able to handle the climate here without any issues."

"I want to see them first before I agree to anything," New Jersey argued. "You won't believe how annoying it is when one of your plants is trying to overtake all the other ones the second you turn your back on them."

"I've been there, trust me," California laughed. "The poppies I mentioned? They love growing pretty much everywhere they can - if I don't pull out the wanderers constantly, they tend to take over the front yard and make everything bright orange and red. It's pretty, but it makes it a bit harder for the other plants to grow."

New Jersey snorted despite herself. "At least it sounds pretty."

"It is, but really, if I want to see that, I can just go look at the hills. I mean it when I say they grow everywhere." Isabel waved it off, though she was smiling as well. "You know, you're pretty cool."

"Same to you," The eastern state replied, pausing for a second before continuing. "I'm Susannah, by the way."

"Isabel," California returned, accepting the handshake she was offered. "Also, I just remembered where I heard some of those flower names of yours - those are butterfly flowers, aren't they?"

Susannah flushed slightly. "And what if they are?"

Isabel laughed loudly. "Oh my gosh, you have a butterfly garden! You are just a little sweetie under all that gruff, aren't you?"

" _Excuse_  me?" New Jersey started glaring back at her again.

"I can just see it now - sweet little Susie and her horde of butterfly attendants," Isabel teased, grinning even more widely at the bristle that sent through the eastern state.

"Don't you  _dare_  call me that in front of anyone," Sue growled.

"Not a peep to anyone else," The western State promised. "But I definitely reserve rights to use it when no one's around."

Though Sue swore at her after that, she didn't explicitly turn it down, leaving Isabel to sit back in gleeful victory. After a few minutes of letting the older woman swear, she interrupted with a deflecting question. "By the way, can I come to your place after this to see your flowers? I wanna see if any of them might be nice to have back at my place."

New Jersey scowled for a bit longer, but her shoulders were relaxing again as she replied, "Fine, but you'd better not come up with any other stupid nicknames, or I'm kicking you out, guest or not."

"Fair enough," California conceded, though she never lost the grin.

(By the time New York got back to his apartment at last, the two were well into a debate over the best rotation of flowers through the seasons. His small heart attack at the two not tearing each other's throats out from a century's worth of resentment was completely understandable in that instance.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was originally planning to have more, but since these two drabbles came out long enough on their own, I'm just gonna save the other ideas for the next update. Just a bit more background on Cali's acceptance into the US, as well as how she and Susie became friends in the first place.
> 
> (And yes, I will be getting more into the east-west resentments in the future – there's a lot to work with there!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worlds Meetings, then and now, featuring California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human (State) names:  
> Isabel Gomez (California)   
> Susannah van Laren (New Jersey)  
> Samuel Rogers (Texas)   
> Benjamin van Laren (New York)

[1945]

"Everyone's agreed to let me host the charter drafting for the United Nations, so I want to make a good impression on them," Alfred told his two most affluent States, looking exhausted but pleased at the turn of events and the end of the War.

"Don't worry about it," Benjamin replied instantly, straightening up with a grin. "I can give you a few places that'll really wow them-"

"Thank you, Ben, but that's not quite what I brought you here for," The Nation turned to Isabel, who had already caught on seconds before her Nation grinned at her. "Bella, do you think you could find me a good place in San Francisco to hold the signing?"

" _What?_ " Benjamin gawked, starting to turn red.

The Golden State looked about ready to burst from pride, grinning widely. "Absolutely! I have the perfect place in mind already, and I'll get the largest room booked so everyone can fit!"

"Thanks, Bella," Alfred grinned before turning back to his other State. "As for you-"

"Why does she get to host it and not me?" Benjamin snapped, scowling fiercely. "I did a shitton more for you during the war than she did, including  _your_  paperwork on top of my own!"

" _Excuse_  me?" Isabel snapped, brustling before Alfred stepped in between them.

"Knock it off, you two, or I'll reconsider my offers. Besides, I thought you'd rather help build the new UN building on your land, but if you want me to give it to Ginny instead…"

"The new UN building?" Both of the States stared for a minute, Isbael's expression dropping as Benjamin's rose in glee. "You mean an official meeting place for them?"

"Once it's built, yeah," Alfred nodded, smiling again. "You think you can handle that?"

"Absol-freaking-lutely I can!" The Empire State whooped, throwing a cocky grin at the other. "You hear that, upstart? I get the  _official_  UN building."

"Well at least  _I_  get to claim the charter signing," Isabel pouted, not wanting to rise to the bait again quite so soon. " _And_  I'm not being an asshole about it, either."

"That's not what your 'oh look at me get something over on you' expression said."

"I did not! And why the hell are you so angry with me?"

"Because you have no respect how things are run over here!"

"I'm so sorry I broke some arbitrary right of passage I didn't even know about because I just joined the Union!" Isabel rolled her eyes. "Or is this because your sister actually likes me?"

"Knock it off, you two," Alfred interrupted again, staring them down until they both muttered out sullen apologies. "Now, what's this about you and Sue?"

Isabel lifted her head again, grinning. "Sue has a really nice garden - not as large as mine, obviously, but neat enough - and we ended up bonding while talking about our prefered planting cycles. She is  _way_  cooler than this jerk here, honestly."

"You should have heard them," Ben added sullenly. "It was like they'd been friends for decades even though they'd only been left alone for an hour at most."

Alfred raised an eyebrow; that was not something he'd expected to happen, but if it meant his eastern and western coast States were going to stop fighting, he wouldn't say anything against it no matter how much it annoyed Ben. Instead he grinned, looking over to Benjamin before asking, "Aw, are you upset because someone's getting more attention from Bella than you now?"

" _Excuse me?_ " They both shrieked, looking disgusted by the mere implications of that. Alfred laughed heartily as they protested further, at least glad to see things had somewhat improved at home while he was away.

~0~0~

Fifty Nations. There were fifty Nations here, in her state, right now, who she had to impress in order to look good for Alfred and the rest of the States.

(Poland had apparently still been too injured to make the trip, but would come as soon as he was able to sign it, making it an uneven fifty-one founding Nations for the charter.)

Isabel took a breath, then three, patting down her dress suit and praying she wouldn't muck this up. She'd dealt with Nations on an individual basis, back when she was still growing up and all the Nations had come to take part of the gold rush hype. She hadn't really seen many of them besides her own and Canada once that died down, and now she had fifty of them here at the same time, all expecting her to provide the best she could give.

Oh god, she wasn't sure if she could manage this.

"Isabel, you ready yet?" Alfred knocked before entering, his smile drooping a bit as she turned enough for him to see her nervous stance. "You okay?"

"I just really don't wanna mess this up for you…" She bit her lip, looking down at the admittance of weakness.

He sighed, stepping inside and carefully pulling her into a hug, petting her hair slowly as she relaxed into the hold. "It'll be fine, alright? I wouldn't have asked you to do this if I wasn't sure you'd pull it off, and so far what you've managed to put together for us is great."

The western State sniffed, pulling away enough to look up at him. "Really?"

"Mmhmm," He agreed, grinning again. "I've been hearing plenty of compliments about the choice of venue, hotels, and even food so far, and they haven't even seen the meeting room yet. You've done me proud so far, and I know you'll be able to handle the rest of this just as well."

"Thank you," She grinned back a bit shakily, but no less honest. "I'll do my best to make it perfect."

"I know you will," He ruffled her hair a bit before stepping back, gesturing for the door. "You ready to go?"

Isabel closed her eyes and took another deep breath, opening them afterward and nodding with as much determination as she could muster. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's get going; the meeting's about to start."

~0~0~

[2015]

"Isabel!" Francis greeted, pulling the State's attention away from her tablet long enough to give him a wide grin. "How have you been?"

"The drought is a pain in the ass, but I'm managing," She replied, shaking her head. "You?"

"Things are getting better, slowly," He glanced around, frowning slight. "Is Alfred not here today?"

"He and Ben are out sick; Ginny's sworn pain on them if they try and leave her house in the next few days," Isabel laughed softly. "So I'm standing in for Al today."

"That's unfortunate," The Nation replied, though a grin soon tipped into place. "I'll send him some well wishes after the meeting, I suppose."

"They'll appreciate that," She thanked, smiling until he'd turned to start speaking with Antonio before turning, pulling out her phone, and shooting off a quick text.

She hoped Ginny was willing to go along with the excuse, because otherwise the Nations were going to be pissed at her as well if they found out Alfred and Ben's 'sick week' was more on the lines of a vacation via Air Tony. Jerks; they didn't even invite her, just told her to cover for them.

They  _so_  owed her souvenirs.

She exhaled in relief when the reply text came back as affirmative, with an additional note to let her know when they were returning so she could speak with them. Isabel felt no shame in giving her the date they'd given her, sending the text off with a smug tap of her finger before setting it down, noticing mosto fh te Nations were now there and it was almost time for the meeting to start.

Stepping to the front podium, Isabel rapped the podium with her knuckles. When that only got the attention of the few closest to her, she sighed, pressed two fingers to her lips, and whistled shrilly, instantly stopping all other conversations and snapping everyone's gaze to her.

"Hey, everyone," She greeted cheerfully, ignoring the annoyed glares from several Nations. "Just wanted to let you all know the meeting's about to start, so if everyone could get to their assigned seats so I can open it, that'd be great! Thanks!"

Amidst much grumbling they complied, Ludwig looking grateful he hadn't had to get the meeting started himself. Once everyone was seated (Sadik having arrived at the last minute), Isabel began her opening speech.

"Welcome to the Spring 2015 meeting, everyone. I'm subbing in for America, so if you have any questions for him specifically, I'll forward them at the end of the day. Otherwise, this morning's agenda will be focused on climate change, starting with a report from Germany. Break will be at 12:30, last for forty minutes, and we'll reconvene in the afternoon for trade discussions. Germany, if you would?"

Isabel stepped down to allow him to take the podium, moving over to her own seat and settling in, notepad already at the ready. If she was gonna be stuck here while her Nation was on vacation, she was at least gonna do it better than Ben could, just to show him up.

~0~0~

Lovino caught her first during lunch break, greeting her politely with a grin as they made their way out of the meeting room. "I have to say, things go a lot smoother when you're in charge instead of Benjamin or Alfred. It's a nice change; you should do it more often."

"You flirt," Isabel laughed, shoving at his shoulder lightly. "Besides, you know Ben would throw a fit if he didn't get to be first choice of sub for Alfred, and then Sue and I would have to deal with that."

"Oh well," He sighed, though his smile showed he wasn't too hurt by the loss. "I guess I'll enjoy the chance while I can."

"You'd better; I worked hard to make sure everything would go smoothly this week, including making sure all the people prone to fighting wouldn't be near each other."

"I noticed that," Lovino nodded, smile widening just a touch. "You can't believe how nice it was to not have to listen to Antonio humming in my ear for the past three hours; if I can go the rest of the day without dealing with him, I might be tempted to kiss you."

"Don't let Al hear you say that," Isabel teased back, grinning. "But I'm glad I could help a little. He been hanging around a lot recently?"

"He's been in another nostalgic phase," The Italian man made a face. "Crying over how cute I was when I was smaller, discussing his conquering days, the usual."

"Ulgh, please tell me he'll be over it soon," The State shuddered, frowning. "Last time I had to deal with that he kept reminding me how I was much nicer when I was smaller, even though the jerk only visited me once the entire time I was under his control."

"I'll let you know when he is," Lovino promised. "It's the least I can do for you, Bella."

"Thank you," She replied freverently, relaxing as a smile returned to her lips. "You could also buy me lunch since we're at a good restaurant."

He glanced over to their side, humming thoughtfully before glancing back to her. "I think I can manage that for a pretty young woman like yourself."

Isabel grinned, stepping inside right behind him while they continued chatting. There was definitely something to be said about being well liked among the Nations, and free meals and friendly banter were definitely a few of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Themed chapter today! Basically it's past vs present, with a bit of insight as to how Cali felt about being the center of world attention back then as opposed to modern days, though some things haven't really changed, like her trust in Alfred.
> 
> These drabbles are fun to think about, not just because it helps with OC development for my future fics but because it lets me go into history I couldn't usually get into with Alfred because it wouldn't make sense for him to be there at the time. Bit shorter than usual, I guess, but couldn't think of anything else to add, so up this goes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabel does not have the fondest opinion of her former 'caretakers'...

There was a knock on the door.

Isabel looked up from the English workbook her new nanny (and wasn't that still odd to think about? An adult specifically charged to look after her?) had given her, wondering who would be coming by here of all places. Alfred wasn't due to be back from town yet, not to mention he could just Walk in without issue, and Ms. Burgins was reading one of the books she'd brought with her from the east coast, though she'd looked up from it at the noise, appearing as curious as Isabel felt.

The knock came again, a bit more insistent, and a voice rang out. "Alfred, Isa are you here?"

The young territory stiffened, workbook bending in her hands as she forgot how to breathe for a second. She knew that voice - even though it'd been ages since she'd last heard it - and they had absolutely no reason to be here looking for her-

...no wait, it was about the stupid gold, wasn't it? It'd only been a month since she'd told Alfred, and he hadn't hesitated in spreading the news as fast as he could, so of course  _he_  would show up now that there was something of value here.

Ms. Burgins set her book to the side and stood up, sending a mildly disapproving look to the girl curling up tightly in her chair before disappearing into the main hall to answer the door. Isabel desperately hoped her tutor wouldn't let him in, because right now she didn't trust herself to not do something that might get her into lots of trouble later.

The temptation to run and hide in her room was strong, but he could still find her there if he asked to speak with her. Maybe she could try Alfred's room or perhaps the workroom instead?

Isabel looked back up from her her hands to see Spain walk in alongside Ms. Burgins, and couldn't help but flinch when he turned to look at her, smile growing into a grin that sent a shiver through her. When he stepped forward to greet her, she did the only thing she could think of in that instant to protect herself-

She screamed, threw her book at him, and scrambled for the other exit to the room.

She'd made it most of the way to the stairs before he caught up, grabbing her wrist and bringing her escape to a stop even as she tried to squirm away. "Let me go!"

"I just wanted to talk to you-" He tried persuading, but she refused to hear it, just wanting to get away from that gaze.

"Let me go!" She yelled again, almost jarring her shoulder when she tried to pull away again, only to wince when his grip tightened.

"I would recommend listening to her," A cool voice spoke up from behind him, drawing both of their attention away from the struggle. "Unless you want to start a war, of course."

"Alfred!" Spain turned to him with another of his grins, not noticing or caring that he was still holding onto her. "I was looking for you-"

"I was in the local town hall going over taxes on new imports, which you would have known if you'd come by to announce yourself," Alfred replied, stepping forward until he was partially between Isabel and Spain, giving the man an unimpressed look. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"I just wanted to speak with her," Spain released her to hold his hands up in surrender. "I haven't seen her since she was very small, and I wanted to make sure she'd grown up right."

Isabel just clang to Alfred's back, grateful that there was a shield between her and her once owner so she didn't have to see him lie through his teeth.

"She doesn't want to speak to you," Alfred noted coolly. "So if I were you I would just go to where the gold actually is and leave her alone, since her welfare is no longer your concern."

"...fine," Isabel could almost feel the look piercing at her, sending another shiver down her spine. "I hope I can see you again soon, Isa - papa missed you very much!"

' _You were never my father.'_

She clenched her hands around the fabric of Alfred's pants, waiting until she heard the front door shut again before relaxing fractionally. She didn't pay much notice to the careful way her new caretaker turned to her, gently checking her and her wrist over before picking her up and informing Ms. Burgins to not let Spain enter the house unless he was there to approve it.

She just clung to the one comfort she could take from this - she was never going back to that man again. She was American, not Spanish or Mexican, and that couldn't be taken away now that someone had seen real value in her.

~0~0~0~

"Are you sure?" Isabel asked, glancing to her companions. "I wouldn't want to be in the way of your work, especially since you're rebuilding…"

"It's more than fine, bella," Lovino replied, smiling as waved her concern off. "It's only fair we return the favor after you've given me and my brother a tour around one of your nicest cities, and I can't say the money would hurt too much, either."

Isabel grinned in reply, hiding it behind a hand as she replied. "Well if it would help your economies, then I can't really refuse, now can I?"

"We'll show you all the best restaurants we have," Feliciano promised. "And our best museums as well!"

"Not all at once," The older Italian inserted. "Obviously a full tour like that would take a month at least, and I don't think you can get away from work for that long."

"Nah, probably not," Isabel agreed. "But it just means I'll have to visit a few times at least, right?"

Lovino grinned. "I guess you'll have to, then."

"Loviiiii!" Called out from nearby, instantly causing both Isabel and Lovino to stiffen in response as Feliciano looked between them in confusion.

Spain almost bounced up, wrapping arms around the smaller man even as Lovino looked fit to burst, grinning wildly as he glanced between the brothers. "And Feli! How are you two? I haven't seen you in a long time, and boss was getting lonely thinking you'd forgotten about him."

"Don't I fucking wish," Isabel heard Lovino mutter under his breath, though she didn't pay him much heed as she had just locked eyes with a surprised Spain, stepping back when he realized who she was.

"Isa!" He beamed, withdrawing from the Italian to greet her. "How are you? Papi hasn't seen you in a long time, and you've grown up so big!"

There were many things Isabel could have done in that moment, even as stunned as she was. She could have let him babble on and just waited for him to get bored and leave, as Lovino had seemed set to. She could have even smiled and greeted him back, avoiding the chance of giving Alfred a political headache later, like Feliciano had done.

However, she wasn't either of them, and something in her snapped, drawing words to her lips before she could even register them.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

All the Nations in the front hall of the meeting building stopped, having been passing by on their way back for the afternoon session but now far more interested in the two facing off. Even the Italians had backed off, both feeling getting between a befuddled Spain and a snarling California was not in their best interests at the moment.

"Isa-"

"Don't you dare call me that, you- you  _bastard_!" Isabel grit through her teeth, stepping forward and watching as he instinctively stepped back. "You never gave a fuck about me while I was under your control - you only visited me once over an entire fucking century - and that was only because you wanted to know if there was gold in my lands!"

She shoved an accusatory finger at him. "The only reason you ever even bothered to come see me again was because I told Alfred I had gold after all, and the first thing you tried to do was manhandle me after forcing your way into my home! You have never once in your life given a fuck about me or my wellbeing, only what wealth I could give you, and I know damned well its the same with all your other former colonies."

Isabel sucked in a breath, closing her eyes as tried to keep herself from slapping the man. "Don't you dare pretend you had anything to do with my childhood besides founding me; you are in no way a father figure to me, and the fact that you try to play off your negligence in my childhood as parenthood makes me sick."

"You tell him, Isa!" She heard another familiar voice call from the side, and with a twirl she set onto Maria, who did not expect the verbal assault.

"Don't you think you're any better! I was your territory too - you could have checked up on me at any time but you didn't!" Isabel cut off the accusation that followed. "I know you were politically unstable - that didn't stop you from at least visiting to make sure I wasn't, you know, starving or anything; oh wait, I was!"

The state's hands twitched up, as if ready to strangle, but she resisted the urge to do that. "You didn't see me as anything but empty ranchlands, barely worth the effort to settle or maintain. The only reason you didn't just sign me over to Alfred sooner was because you were a stubborn bitch who didn't want to give up the land she'd already allowed the Americans to actually settle and farm for her! Fucking hell, I was already all but American by the time the war came around - I didn't even fight when his troops took control of the region officially! I figured, what the hell, he can't be any worse than you!"

Isabel exhaled the rest of her rage, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. "Neither of you were good caretakers to me; don't think for a second I've forgiven either of you for what you put me through. I do not and will never consider you family, so get your heads out of your asses and stop assuming that I in any way tolerate you."

She felt hands settle onto her shoulders, drawing her the rest of the way from her narrow focus to see many of the Nations staring at her.

"Maria, Antonio, I think you two should go set settled into your seats; the meeting's going to start up again soon," Alfred told them.

The two Nations looked set to protest, but Cuba and France grabbed their respective friends and coaxed them away, causing some of the others who had been watching to break off from the small crowd as well, until only a few remained. When Isabel glanced to one of them in askance, the Nation in question - Brazil, maybe? - gave her a small smile and nod in turn before leaving with the others.

"Isabel…" She felt the hands on her shoulder tighten slightly, reminding her he was there.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," She replied, biting her lip as what she'd just done sank in, leaving her shaking from the adrenaline spike wearing off. "I didn't mean to lose my temper; I know you're trying to get everyone to get along peacefully, but I just- he tried to claim he was my  _father_ , like he actually ever cared about me, and I was just so  _angry_  at him and I couldn't stop myself, and then  _Mexico_ spoke up and I turned on her too because I just- I hate them so  _much_  and I wish they would just leave me  _alone_."

"Shh, shh," He replied, turning her gently so they were facing each other. "I figured something like this might happen, so I tried to play interference before now, but I guess that couldn't work forever. I am disappointed you lost yourself like that, but I understand why and I can't really blame you - hell, I've done the same with Arthur a few times in the past."

Alfred ruffled her hair, smiling softly. "You've done some amazing things in the last century, Bella, and I'm proud of you. I'm really glad to have someone as strong and capable as you looking out for me here on the west coast since I can't always be here to deal with it myself, and you've more than proven that everything those two thought about you was wrong."

Isabel sniffled but smiled back, reaching forward to wrap her arms around him. "Thank you, Al."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Cali's not a huge fan of Mexico or Spain, I wonder why... but in all seriousness I more wanted to establish that she DOES have a habit of holding back her anger until she hits a sort of breaking point, because it'll be important in other drabbles to come. It's sorta like Mattie, I guess, only she can and will be held accountable the second she snaps at someone who doesn't deserve it.
> 
> These two, on the other hand? Totally did need to hear it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mentioned names:
> 
> Massachusetts: Percy (short for Perseverance)  
> Vermont: Pierre  
> Tennessee: Nathaniel  
> Kentucky: Theodore

_Fall, mid-1690s_

_\--_

“Sue, Sue!”  America cries, barging into New Jersey’s bedroom and startling her awake.  For a moment, New Jersey feels panic welling in her belly, and she struggles to throw the quilt from her.  The fire has long gone cold in the hearth, so she scrabbles for the candlestick set on the bedside table and fumbles to light a match.

She lifts the candle and peers at America as he throws himself on to the bed.  Briefly, she wonders why he didn’t go to England before remembering that the other nation had been working all day and did not wish to be disturbed.  She sets the candle down and shifts to allow America to burrow against her side.

“What’s the matter?” she asks sleepily, using her free hand to brush back the messy tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid.  She bites her lip to avoid snapping at the child, but he presses his cheek against her and she can feel his tears.  

“Ghosts,” he replies, sniffling.

“Ghosts?”  New Jersey looks down at him curiously.  “There aren’t any ghosts here.  You’re perfectly safe.”

America shakes his head and presses closer.  “There’re always ghosts, and demons, and specters.  Percy says— “

New Jersey scowls and tilts his head up, looking sternly at him.  She should have known; he’d spent much of the last two years with Massachusetts, who is obsessed with all sorts of nonsense.  “Percy,” she says carefully, “sees spirits everywhere, even where they are not.”  She does not put much stock in witches, especially not the sort of witches allegedly in Salem.

“But, Sue,” he says, “Percy saw them.  He said he did!  He said he saw the Devil hanging above the witches’ heads.”  New Jersey can feel him trembling against him and reaches for the quilt, which she tugs around his shoulders.  She should kindle the fire and let some warmth into the room, but America is clinging so tightly to her skirts that she doesn’t think he’d let her go.

New Jersey doesn’t answer for a long while as she considers her answer, just strokes her fingers through his hair till his shaking calms and he loosens his grip on her.  She reminds herself that he’s only a little child and doesn’t know any better.  Massachusetts is older, and he doesn’t know better, either, after all.

“Once,” she says slowly, “when Scotland came to visit, he showed me how his people ward off unwanted spirits.  Would you like me to tell you about it?”

America looks up wide-eyed at her and nods.

New Jersey shifts back against the pillows and gathers him into her arms.  He drops his head to her shoulder and curls his hand in her skirts.  “Well, first we went out into the garden to find a big pumpkin.  After we picked one out we brought it inside and carved the insides out of it.”  They’d made soup out of the meat and roasted the seeds, after, as well.

“Then what?”

“Then we carved a face into the sides,” she replies.  “A really fearsome face, to scare the spirits away.  And then we put a candle inside, so that the face lit up.  After that, we set it outside on the front steps.  The candle makes it so the spirits can see it from far away, so they don’t come close.  Scotland called them jack o’ lanterns.”

America swallows and rubs his cheeks.  “Can we do that, Sue?  There’re pumpkins out in your garden!”

New Jersey chuckles and hugs him.  “Yes, we can do it after breakfast.  You can pick the pumpkin out!”

“I’ll pick the biggest pumpkin there is,” America promises.  “That way the face can be big too, and it’ll scare all the ghosts away.”

“Good,” New Jersey says, smiling a little.  She might not believe much in spirits, but she does believe in the power of gardens.  “Now, it’s time to go back to bed.  The sun will come up faster if you’re asleep.”  She shifts America off her lap and prepares to set him on the floor.

“Um, Sue?”  He asks tentatively.  “Can’t I stay with you tonight?  Just in case.”  He gives her such a wide-eyed, sad look that New Jersey sighs.

Her bed is not that large, and America is not an easy sleeper.  He moves all night and takes up a surprising amount of room for such a little child.  Still, she hasn’t the heart to turn him away.

“Just for tonight,” she replies, leaning aside to blow the candle out.  “Tomorrow, it’s back to your own bed, though.”  she settles them both down and pulls the quilt tightly around their shoulders.

“Thanks, Sue,” he sighs, snuggling against her.  “Night.”

New Jersey sighs again and holds him close.  “Good night, Alfie.”

And they both sleep well that night.

* * *

_Present-Day, America's home near D.C._

\--

“Alfred’s _still_ up in the attic?” New Jersey asks as she and Texas amble into the kitchen, arms laden with groceries. The other states aren’t due in for the meeting for another week, when they’ll do a larger Costco run, but for now they need only cook for four.

California looks up from her book and shrugs. “I brought him a sandwich like two hours ago and he was knee-deep in old quilts.”

Texas snorts. “Well hopefully he hasn’t managed to drown himself.” He sets his bag on the table and digs through it, pulling out the steaks America had wanted to grill for dinner.

“I think he’ll manage,” New Jersey laughs, voice muffled as she rearranges the fridge to make room for the milk.

“Are you two hungry?” California asks. “There’s still some chicken salad from lunch.”

“No, we ate while we were out,” Texas replies, sharing a smile with New Jersey. “There was a little cafe near the store and Sue couldn’t resist.”

California is about to reply when America comes thumping down the stairs and pokes his head into the room.  “Oh good, Sue! You’re back! C’mere, I wanna show you something!”

“Show me what?” New Jersey slides the steaks Texas hands her into the fridge and nudges the door shut as she turns.

“Something I found in the attic!” With that, he darts away, and they hear him pounding back up the stairs. New Jersey glances at Texas and California, who shrug, and they all wind up following America to the attic.

It’s dusty up there, and rather dimly lit, the only light coming from a single bulb and the sun filtering through the window. New Jersey sneezes as the dust tickles her nose and murmurs a ‘thanks’ to California’s ‘bless you.’

“Look, Sue,” America says, hefting up a portrait. “D’you remember this? General Washington had it commissioned in ‘96, after Nathaniel joined.”

New Jersey leans forward to get a better look at the picture and can’t help but smile a little. She does remember—it’s of the early states, all of them, and America together.  “I do remember,” she replies. “Nathaniel was very squirmy and didn’t want to sit still.”

California and Texas eagerly shuffle closer to peer at the portrait themselves.

“Is that you, Sue?” California asks, pointing to one of the figures with a child on her lap and long blonde braids falling over her shoulders.

“Mhm,” New Jersey murmurs. “And Nathaniel.”

Texas grins. Tennessee is one of his good friends, but he’s never seen what the other state looks like as a child. “I didn’t know that there were any paintings of Nate so young.”

“Caroline probably has others,” America replies. “She and Ginny primarily raised him. And Teddy, too.”

“That one must be Teddy,” California says, gesturing to an older child asleep on the shoulder of a woman who could only be Virginia. Of the original thirteen, only she and Massachusetts have red hair. “And that’s Pierre.” The last child, a young Vermont, is sitting between New York and New Hampshire and more interested in the puppy curled at his feet than the world around him.

“It’s in such good condition,” New Jersey says, looking over at America, “for being stuck up here for centuries.”

“I know,” America agrees.  He brushes away some of the dust on the frame and grins up at her. “Must be because it’s so dark up here, even though it’s humid too.”

“Have you found any other interesting paintings?” California asks, settling down onto the creaky old floorboards.

“Sure have!” America sets the portrait gently against the wall and turns to pull an old canvas from another, smaller portrait. “It’s another one of you, Sue. And Ben.” He tilts it to catch the light.

“Aw, how cute!” California says with a laugh. “You look so young!”

“When was that one commissioned?” Texas asks, his own grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He gently takes the painting from Alfred and brushes his finger over New Jersey’s face.

“Oh, ages ago,” New Jersey breathes, leaning against Texas’s shoulder. “Before the Revolution, definitely. Maybe the 1720s? The clothes look about right for that period.”

She dimly remembers sitting for that particular portrait—England had made them dress in their Sunday best, which for New Jersey had been a pale green gown embroidered with tiny pink roses and for New York had been a rich blue overcoat and tan breeches.

“I think it was very hot and humid that day,” New Jersey says aloud. “Because Ben had complained loudly about how he wanted to go for a swim, and England had boxed him ‘round the ears.” Their best clothes back then had been so heavy and stiff, and they’d had to wear more of it; it was not good for summertime.

California snorts. “Ben still often needs a cuff ‘round the ears.”

New Jersey laughs. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“It’s true though!”

“Maybe sometimes,” New Jersey agrees amiably.

“How long were you sitting there for?” Texas asks.

New Jersey shrugs. “Can’t remember _that_ many details. But I guess we dozed off in the end.”

The painting shows the two of them leaning against one another on a couch, eyes closed and looking very much at peace, hazy summer sunlight setting their hair agleam.

“I have some of Georgie’s old sketchbooks, too,” America says, lifting a leatherbound book out of a trunk. “Careful with the paper,” he adds as he hands it over to California.

“I forgot he likes to draw,” California says, gently turning the pages. The first few sketches are all of landscapes and animals, although some are smudged passed recognition. There’s one of Maryland, smiling and cradling a kitten, and another of Virginia bent over an embroidery hoop, mob-cap slightly askew.

“How’d you get these?” New Jersey asks.

America shrugs. “I did take some of his stuff for storage when he was having that new house of his built, back in the ‘20s. They must have been mixed in with my own boxes and never managed to get back to him.”

“Oh, look,” California interrupts. “Here’s you and James, Sue.” Indeed, the page she turned to is one of them dancing, Pennsylvania swinging her around as she tossed her head back with laughter.

“I didn’t know he’d drawn that,” New Jersey says with a grin. “He was always so sly about that sort of thing.”

“Guess you have to be, to get candid sketches,” Texas says, curling his hand around hers. “I thought you said you couldn’t dance?”

New Jersey rolls her eyes. “I said I couldn’t _tango,_ which is what you wanted to do. And I never said I wouldn’t go with you, just that you’d have to teach me first.”

Texas smiles, leering playfully down at her. “Well in that case—” He reaches over with his free hand to squeeze her knee softly, grin widening when New Jersey giggles.

“Guys!” California says, wrinkling her nose. “Save the flirting for later.”

“There’s Ben,” America says of the next page, ignoring Texas and New Jersey. “And that dog of his. What was its name again?”

“Twiggy,” New Jersey replies. “She was a wolfhound, the runt of her litter. The owner was going to kill her, so Benny took her and raised her himself. He was basically in love with her.” She smiles fondly, though, because the dog had been a sweetheart and had loved her brother just as much.

“It’s so weird to think of him raising baby animals,” California says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a pet.”

New Jersey shrugs. “He mainly lives in his New York City apartment nowadays, and he doesn’t like small dogs. He’s had a few cats though. But Manhattan wasn’t all that settled back then, so there was plenty of room for a big dog. He took her hunting all the time.”

“Hard to imagine Ben hunting too,” Texas says wryly. New York has always tended to turn down invitations to hunt with a bunch of them—although Texas can acknowledge that the reason might be because New York doesn’t care to hang out with some of the southerners who come along.

“He goes with Vermont sometimes,” New Jersey says. “Not recently, though, but they’ve gone for deer in the Adirondacks before. He says neither of them use enough meat to make it worthwhile.” She herself had ended up with a decent amount of venison she had to make room in her freezer for.

“Enough about Ben,” California says. “Here’s another of you, Susie.” She gestures to a drawing of New Jersey staring adoringly up at a dark horse.

“His name was Thunder,” New Jersey replies, smile softening.

“So this is little Stormy’s namesake,” Texas murmurs, thinking of the filly he’d let her name recently. “You told me about him; he was the racer? You’re right though. That blaze running down his nose looks like hers.”

New Jersey nods. “She’ll dapple like he did too, probably. You can’t tell ‘cause of the charcoal, obviously, but she’s real similar in color to him.”

Texas studies the picture silently, although he has eyes more for New Jersey than for the horse. She still has that same slightly crooked smile and dusting of freckles across her nose, even if her face isn’t so round with youth anymore. She was just as pretty then, he thinks. He wonders if Delaware would let him take it, if he asked.

“There’s tons of other neat stuff up here,” America says after a moment, rolling his shoulders and sighing as they crack. “One of those old quilts was something Ginny made for me when I was small. Can’t possibly go through all of it in one day.”

“You should come downstairs and go outside then,” New Jersey replies. “It’s no good breathing in all this dust. Sammy’ll grill for us, won’t you?” She turns to smile at her boyfriend, who tears his eyes away from the drawing to return the look.

“‘Course I will,” he agrees with a glance down at his watch. They’ve been up here later than he realized. “You can shower while I heat the grill up,” he says to America. He gets to his feet and pulls New Jersey up beside him.

“Yeah,” America says, standing. “Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s go then!” He leads them downstairs, shutting the light off behind them and leaving the dust to settle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On jack-o-lanterns: I had a professor who mentioned that jack-o-lanterns were brought by Scottish settlers travelling to their New Jersey colony as a way to protect people from malignant spirits. The faces carved in the gourd's flesh (pumpkins in the New World) are what scared those spirits off. I had trouble finding anything to verify how jack-o-lanterns came to the US when I researched it myself later, so I can't say whether my professor was correct or not--Wikipedia says that the association of jack-o-lanterns with Halloween in the US didn't really occur until the mid-nineteenth century, and my other research only mentions that the lore in Scotland and Ireland has been around for centuries and that the tradition was brought to the US by immigrants from those countries. In any case, I thought the idea was neat and decided to use it anyway, especially considering how America is canonically frightened of ghosts.
> 
> On Massachusetts' name: Deciding on a name for Massachusetts was difficult until I remembered that the Puritans occasionally gave their children 'virtue names,' as a way of setting themselves apart and reminding their children of important virtues (or of sins). I went with 'Perseverance' because it can be shortened to 'Percy,' which is a name that would not sound odd or out of place at any given time in history. (Indeed, nowadays, he prefers to let people assume his name is 'Percival!') Of course, it _was_ a little difficult to resist naming him 'Fly-fornication' or 'If-Christ-had-not-died-for-thee-thou-hadst-been-damned!' 
> 
> I have written New Jersey as skeptical of witchcraft because, historically, the colony has had no instances of witch trials. Indeed, the only reference to witchcraft in New Jersey comes from a 1730 article in the Pennsylvania Gazette, and there is no other historical record corroborating it. The fact that the article was written by Ben Franklin and that the account of the trial is pretty silly only adds to the belief that the event never actually happened. Read about it [here.](http://www.nytimes.com/1984/10/28/nyregion/new-jersey-opinion-the-trial-of-witches-in-mt-holly.html)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabel has her preferred ways of making fond memories last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human (State) names:  
> Isabel Gomez (California)   
> Susannah van Laren (New Jersey)  
> Samuel Rogers (Texas)   
> Benjamin van Laren (New York)

"What's this?" Isabel asked, looking from the empty book she'd been handed up to Alfred, who smiled and shrugged at the question.

"It's a journal. You can write down or draw whatever you want in it, and look back on it whenever you want in the future."

"Oh." She nodded slowly, not sure what to think about the gift right now but not wanting to be rude about it. "Thank you."

"No problem," He replied, ruffling her hair with a smile. "Be good for Ms. Burgins, and I'll try to be back in a few years to check in on you, alright?"

"Okay," She mumbled, not wanting to try and argue the point again after the mess of last time.

Alfred stepped away to give his farewell and a few last second clarifications to her new human tutor and nanny, before turning back to her. "If you want, you can send letters - they might take a while to get to me, but I'll definitely read them and reply when I can."

Isabel nodded, holding the journal close to her chest as he smiled again before turning and walking out of the house. She wasn't sure how long she stared after him, hoping vaguely that he might change his mind and come back and stay for at least a little while longer, only to be startled out of it by Ms. Burgins, who seemed to be at least somewhat understanding of her internal conflict.

"Get washed up and ready for bed; we'll start your lessons tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," The young State replied softly, moving to obey while her thoughts drifted to the last gift she'd gotten from her Nation. What would she even use it for?

...maybe she'd think of something tomorrow.

~0~0~

Isabel blinked as she came back from the book she was browsing through at the sharp cry of her phone, wondering who was calling this late in the evening. She set her book down and got up from her couch to grab the phone, putting the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

"How could you do this to me?"

The State blinked again. "Ben? Isn't it, like, two in the morning for you?"

"It's your fault!" He whined, further confusing her as she leaned back against the wall with a frown. "You and your stupid meddliring!"

"...are you drunk?"

The Eastern State let out what might have been a sob. "I can't get the sight out of my head, and I'm gonna be scarred for life and it's your fault!"

Isabel sighed, using her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Ben, unless you tell me what I did wrong I can't actually say if I had something to do with it or not."

"He was there, with her, like he had some right to be there, and then they started - augh, damnit, now it's in my head again fuck you-"

"Wait wait wait," She interrupted, realization dawning alongside a wicked grin. "You're telling me you went to Sue's house and caught her and Sammy making out?"

The dismayed cry from the other side of the line was all the confirmation she needed, and she started laughing helplessly.

"No, stop laughing, this isn't funny you asshole!" Ben tried to cut through to little effect.

"Are you kidding, this is amazing, oh my god," She wheezed out, holding her free hand to her chest now due to how much it ached now. "I wish I had a video of your face when you caught them."

The eastern State switched from pleading to swearing, quickly slipping from English as he thought of more ways to vow revenge against her person and Sam and everyone else who he felt had slighted him at some point. She bit back another burst of giggles, setting aside a few of the more creative swears for future use.

"Seriously, Ben, get over it. They're cute together, and happy, and that's all your should be concerned about."

"You don't have to deal with it being shoved in your face everyday!"

"Poor poor Benny, how you suffer," She retorted flatly, not wanting to admit that she might be a bit disgruntled as well if Sam lived right next to her and boasted about it all the time. "I'm sure your massive piles of money will comfort you in these troubled times."

"Fuck you-"

"Go to sleep already, it's way too late for you to still be up. Cry to your neighbors tomorrow about your hangover or whatever, but I want to get to sleep, thanks."

With that she hung up, after a bit deciding to unplug the phones to avoid him calling back and interrupting her sleep.

(After, of course, indulging in another short burst of laughter.)

~0~0~

"You know what I miss?" Isabel sighed, setting down the potted tomato plant by the hole she'd dug for it. "The grizzlies."

"Grizzlies?" Sue replied, sitting up from where she'd been mixing in new soil around the avocado tree. "Why would you miss them?"

"Well, I mean there weren't a lot of people for me to hang out with for a long time," The western State shrugged, waving her hands around her to showcase her point. "And the guys at the missions didn't usually have much time for me, so I sorta just wandered on my own a lot."

"And so you just wandered the wilds and charmed the woodlife?" Her friend asked, eyebrow raised.

"Pfft, don't I wish. I was never an animal charmer like Al, but for some reason the grizzlies were always willing to put up with me. Maybe they thought I was like their cubs or something, I 'unno, but it was fun wandering around with them and petting their fur. Even slept on them sometimes; they were the best fuzzy pillows, even if they had fleas and stuff."

Sue shook her head in exasperation. "Is that why the bear's your state symbol?"

"Yep, that's basically why. Shame they all got hunted out of here, I really would've liked to have known if they still liked me or if that would've worn off by now."

"I'm sure you would've figured something out if that happened," Her friend replied. "What would you do if they did still like you, though?"

Isabel grinned, thinking back on her childhood adventures. "Totally sic one or two on Sam next time he comes by, since he still hasn't paid for the herbs he trampled."

"Bella!"

"What, it'd only be a bite on the ass or two at most. Probably. And you know you'd be right behind me if he'd done it to your garden."

Sue refused to answer that, instead asking another question. "Why bears, though - you'd probably get better revenge though something less… extreme, I guess?"

"Nostalgia," Isabel smiled, gaze off in the distance. "You know, one of the reason he probably didn't come by more often was because this one time, he caught me while I was playing with some bear cubs."

"Oh no," Sue leaned forward, smiling as well. "What happened then?"

"Well, he clearly didn't stop to think, just walked right on over and tried to grab me since he'd come with Mexico to check in on things and she'd wanted to make sure I was still alive at least."

"I'm sure she did care at least a little bit, Bella, you need to drop it at some point."

"I'll drop it when you drop your grudge with Arthur."

"...Point."

The western State grinned again. "Of course, mama bear was right behind some trees chowing down on some berries while watching us, so when he walked up…"

"...she thought her cubs were in danger and attacked." Sue finished, shaking her head and trying not to burst out laughing at the image.

"I don't know if I've ever seen him run so fast since," Isabel agreed cheerfully. "I feel a little bad about it now, but at the time it was wildly hilarious to see this teenager just running like the legions of hell were chasing him, this bear that probably weighed almost twenty times what he did right on his heels. She stopped after a few minutes once he was gone, and I didn't think much of it until I went back to the mission the next day to find him still worked up and Mexico put out."

"Wow," Sue laughed softly. "That sounds like something I need to hear about from him too."

"Get me a pic of his face when you bring it up," Isabel pleaded. "That has to be worth a place in my scrapbook."

"I'll see what I can do," The eastern State promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably could have written more around this theme, but I sorta lost motivation along the way and I've been reading fanfiction and stuff to relax after the stress of July, but I'll be getting back to main fics and stuff soon!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> New Jersey: Susanna (& the diminutive "Sanne")  
> New York: Benjamin  
> Belgium: Manon Abrams  
> Netherlands: Lars van Alst  
> Virginia: Ginny
> 
> Also: slight warning for the second story, in which New Jersey suffers injury due to the Black Tom explosion. It's not particularly graphic, but there's mention of blood and an attack.

_[1600s, New Netherlands Colony]_

Netherlands doesn't notice it at first, that of his twin colonies only the boy, Benjamin, speaks. He chatters away cheerfully, filling the silence enough for both of the children who make up New Netherlands, and young Susanna doesn't seem to mind letting her brother take the lead.

It's only when he brings his own sister to meet them that he realizes she hasn't said one word.

"Oh, how cute they are, Lars!" Belgium exclaims, kneeling before New Netherlands, who watch her curiously. "I'm Manon. What are your names?"

"I'm Benjamin!" The boy says cheerfully. He tugs his sister's hand and adds, "And this is Susanna, but we call her Sanne!" The girl, all blonde curls and rosy cheeks, smiles shyly.

"I'm sure she can tell me her name on her own," Belgium says gently. "Isn't that right, dear?"

Susanna tugs on her brother's hand, and the two children look at each other, shrugging. "She don't wanna," Benjamin says finally. He shifts from foot to foot and both children seem to be rapidly losing interest in Belgium, so Netherlands sighs and dismisses them.

"We've dinner in the formal dining room tonight," he tells them firmly. "Be in early for washing."

"Yes, Netherlands!" Benjamin promises, even as he pulls Susanna towards the door after him. "C'mon, Sanne! Hedy's puppies opened their eyes today!"

Netherlands and Belgium listen as his voice fades away, and then Belgium turns to Netherlands with a worried frown. "Does he always speak for her?"

"I… I've never really noticed," he replies slowly, frowning. "He's always been the more outgoing child." It did take him awhile to learn to properly speak Dutch, as it goes with children, but Benjamin had never been silent.

Belgium raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. "You never noticed? Really?"

Netherlands shrugs. "I'm not around them  _that_ often. And Susanna is a good girl—she knows her letters just fine; the tutors have never complained." They had, in fact, had more to say about Benjamin's constant stream of chatter.

"You are utterly  _useless!"_  Belgium says after a moment of staring incredulously at him. "Honestly. How in God's name does something like that escape your notice?" She shakes her skirts out and whirls away, calling over her shoulder that she'll go speak to the tutors Netherlands had hired herself. She leaves the room with a last exasperated cry of, "Men!"

Netherlands gazes after her in bemusement, but the more he thinks about it, the more he does find it concerning that Susanna's never spoken. On the other hand, though, surely the tutors would have said something if it were truly a problem? With that thought in mind, Netherlands resolves to tuck his worry away for a later date. He has merchants that need dealing with first.

It all comes back to him a few days later when Belgium corners him after breakfast, before his secretary can call him away to business.

"The tutors have said they've never heard her talk either." Belgium scowls at him, huffing. "And they didn't see fit to  _tell_  you because girls are to be silent and they thought she was simply being  _demure,"_  she continues indignantly. "As she was supposed to be!"

"Manon—" Netherlands starts.

"Don't you 'Manon' me!" Belgium hisses. "She's our kind, not some human girl! We have to figure out why she can't talk."

Netherlands sighs, but he sees that Belgium has a point, so he allows her to gather the children and shepherd them into the drawing room. She sits them down near the hearth and pours them each a cup of the chocolate imported from Spain's colonies to the south.

"Wow!" Benjamin says, licking his lips. "We never get treats like this in the middle of the day!" He grins cheerfully at Belgium. Susanna nods along, even as she carefully sips her drink, legs swinging.

"What do you say, Benjamin?" Netherlands reminds him, masking his fondness with an exasperated sigh.

"Oops! Thanks, Miss Manon!"

"You're very welcome, child," she says. "Now we do have something to discuss."

Her voice is serious enough that both children of New Netherlands look up at her warily. Susanna carefully sets her cup down and wipes her lips with the corner of her apron, and Benjamin straightens his shoulders.

"It's come to our attention that you can't speak, Susanna," Belgium says gently. She pulls out a small sheaf of papers bound carefully with string and a stick of charcoal. "Your tutors have said you know your letters well, so we thought you might write down anything that might be wrong."

Susanna looks confused, but she takes the paper even as Benjamin squawks, "She prefers Sanne!"

"She can answer for herself," Belgium tells him firmly. "She'll never learn to speak if you keep doing it for her!" She lifts her own cup and takes a long steadying sip.

"I'm  _not_  talking for her! I'm just saying!"

With a sigh, Netherlands kneels before Susanna and pats her shoulder gently. "If there's anything wrong, you can tell us."

"But there's nothing wrong," Susanna says eventually, sounding perplexed.

Netherlands and Belgium gape at her, and the fine porcelain cup drops from Belgium's slack hand.

"B—but," Belgium sputters, "Benjamin said you couldn't talk."

"I did not!" Benjamin says indignantly. "I said she didn't  _wanna_  talk! It's diff'rent!"

"I don't like to speak if I have nothin' to say," Susanna tells them, biting her lip. "An' Ben likes to talk plenty."

Netherlands chuckles and ruffles her hair affectionately. "My kind of girl," he teases. He snickers a little at Belgium's pout, but he stands and throws an arm around his own sister's shoulders. "They have you there, Manon."

Belgium sighs, but she manages a smile. "Yes," agrees. "I suppose they do." She turns to Susanna and continues, "And if you ever find you have something to say but don't want to talk, you can still write it down."

Susanna, when she smiles, lights the room, and she says, "That would be good."

* * *

 

_[July 30, 1916]_

_2 A.M., Washington, D.C._

There is fire everywhere, and thick black smoke burns down New Jersey’s throat and in her lungs. Her chest feels heavy and hot, as if she’s been struck by cannon fire, and the ground trembles beneath her feet. The shaking sends her tumbling to the ground where she lays, winded. She tries to draw cool, clean air into her starving lungs, but there is none, and sh can’t find the strength to stand.

Instead, all she tastes is the metallic tang of blood on her tongue.

New Jersey wakes with a start, panting.

For a moment she can’t remember where she is; she’s too hot, and it’s too dark and—

It comes to her in a rush.

America’s house. She’s lying in her bed at America’s house, where they’re to have their summer meetings in only a few days.  

The room is dark and silent, and a light breeze filters in from the open window. New Jersey allows herself to relax and to settle back into sleep.

That’s when the searing pain in her throat hits her.

Too stunned to scream, New Jersey gasps and feels herself choking. Panicking, she tries to breathe, and when she finds she can’t, she lurches upward, clawing at her neck as if the act would clear her throat. Doubled over, she coughs wetly into her hands.

She knows instinctively that she is bleeding.

The world seems to narrow to the burning in her throat and lungs as she struggles for air. Coughing only seems to make the pain worse because she can’t breathe in, no matter how hard she tries—

Later, she would not recall how she manages to drag herself out of bed, nightdress and sheets tangled around her legs, but somehow she struggles across the hall to her brother’s room and bangs on the door, bloody fists staining the paint.

“It’s the middle of the night!” New York shouts. Dimly, New Jersey can hear him stomping to the door, ready to jerk it open. “What can _possibly_ be so important that—”

He cuts off with a startled exclamation. _“Sanne?”_

She must look a sight, New Jersey thinks vaguely, all doubled over and drenched in blood, hair a tangled mess down her back. She can’t stop coughing long enough to tell him how her throat burns, how she’d felt a rocking explosion in her bones, an attack on her own beloved soil and no way to stop it.

But New York seems to understand and swears violently as he reaches for her. She leans gratefully against him, for dark spots have started to crowd the edges of her vision. New York’s hands are steady on her back and she clings to the awareness of them, the only comfort she has amidst the fire.

“What’s going on?” a voice cries from somewhere behind her. Virginia? New Jersey wonders, but she feels too light-headed to concentrate on it, so she lets it go.

“Don’t know,” another voice replies. “But get Alfred!  Hurry!”

She can’t recognize that voice, either, for all that she knew it only moments—hours? she wonders; everything feels so slow—ago. She still can’t breathe, but it doesn’t hurt anymore, so she supposes that it’s a fair trade.

She does feel something blessedly cool on her cheeks and tries to turn her face toward it, and then—

The darkness finally overwhelms her, and she knows no more.

_._._._

New Jersey wakes with the sun warm on her cheeks.

Hazily, she tries to open her eyes and groans when the light blinds her. The groan sends pain flaring in her throat, and New Jersey’s eyes shoot open in panic.  Before she can lift her hands to her neck, she feels a weight beside her on the bed.

“Calm down, Susanna,” Virginia murmurs, pressing her palms to New Jersey’s cheeks. “Shh, you’re all right.  It’s okay.”

Virginia tilts her head till she’s staring right into New Jersey’s eyes, and New Jersey wills herself to relax. It works, with Virginia’s murmured encouragements, and eventually New Jersey feels calm enough to wonder what happened. She remembers waking from a nightmare but nothing else.  She makes another noise, low in the back of her throat, and then cringes at the throbbing pain.

“There was an incident last night,” Virginia tells her softly. She has always been one to get straight to the heart of things, and New Jersey is glad for that.  She doesn’t want anyone to tiptoe around her.  She lifts her fingertips to the back of Virginia’s hand.

Virginia smiles grimly. “It was an explosion at Black Tom,” she continues. “You woke us all up, banging on New York’s door as you were. It’s a good thing you did, or we’d not have known so soon!” Virginia adds with forced cheer. New Jersey can hear the worry in her voice though, and curls her hand around Virginia’s. It’s _her_ Virginia’s worried about.

The knowledge of what had actually happened last night sends a thrill of fear shooting through her. There were munitions being kept at Black Tom, explosives meant to be sold to the British. Any little fire could have set them alight.

“Some people’re saying it was the Germans,” New York says from the doorway. New Jersey jolts in surprise at the sound of his voice. She winces when the movement jostles her sore throat.

She shifts her head to look at him and finds him leaning against the frame. He’s not smiling, but New Jersey thinks she can see a glimmer of relief in his eyes at the sight of her awake. She blinks at him and manages a little smile of her own.  He dips his head.

“No one knows that for sure,” Virginia snaps. “It could very well have been an accident.”  

New York shrugs. “I’m only repeating what’s being speculated.”

“We will suffer no rumors of attack,” Virginia replies firmly. “Not until we know for sure whether it’s true or not.”

There is wisdom in that, New Jersey thinks, but she knows that New York is right to be worried. For all their claims of neutrality, they have been active in selling arms to Britain, and the Germans know it.

When New York only shrugs again, Virginia gives him a pointed look. “Is there a reason you’re here, Ben?”

“I can’t come and see my sister?” New York retorts blandly.  At Virginia’s frown, he rolls his eyes and straightens, padding into the room. “The doctor’s come back. Alfred’s talking with him now, but he wanted you to know that they’d be coming up.”  

Virginia nods and straightens. “I’ll get the kettle then. He’ll want the water.” She smiles down at New Jersey and adds, “He’ll give you something more for the pain, too, I’m sure.” New Jersey manages to sigh.

Once Virginia’s left the room, New York settles down where she had been and the bed dips under his weight. He says nothing more, only reaches out to stroke New Jersey’s hair. It’s comforting, so she lets her eyes drift shut and concentrates on the slow movement of her brother’s hands.

And neither of them mind waiting in the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, you'll notice that I've gone and changed the spelling of New Jersey's name. This is because historically, "Susanna" has been the more popular spelling, and I've decided that I prefer to use the more common variation. Aesthetically, I also have decided that I prefer the way it looks without the final "h." I doubt I'll get around to actually going back and correcting the previous chapters though.
> 
> Secondly, I've always found the idea of children who take forever to speak and then come out and use full sentences from the beginning to be hilarious, so I've applied it to New Jersey here. I tend to think of her as somewhat more reserved than her neighbors Pennsylvania and New York, who often overshadow her. Historically, it's said that Ben Franklin called New Jersey "a barrel tapped at both ends" due to its close proximity to Philadelphia and New York City, and that's something I've kept in mind when writing her as following New York's lead. Furthermore, the histories of New Jersey and New York are very entwined with one another: they were both part of the New Netherlands colony (although the southern half of New Jersey also made up part of New Sweden), and until the early eighteenth century, the governor of New York was also the governor of New Jersey (the most famous of these governors might well have been Edward Hyde, third Earl of Clarendon who was said to open the Assembly dressed in the style of his cousin Queen Anne!) The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey also operates the area's ports, three major airports, and owns the land upon which the World Trace Center was built, and the two states have a long history of arguing over who owns Ellis Island and Liberty Island, which is home to the Statue of Liberty. The question of who exactly has jurisdiction is somewhat complicated, but essentially they've been told to share it. And while on the surface all of that doesn't have much to do with the fic, it's my rather long-winded justification for New York's taking the lead when they were children. They still work closely together, but nowadays, New Jersey is much less willing to allow him to boss her around.
> 
> Thirdly, Black Tom was a munitions depot in Jersey City, New Jersey, across the harbor from New York City. On July 30, 1916, there were a series of fires there which resulted in the munitions exploding. It's said that the explosion would have been the equivalent of a 5.5 earthquake and that it was felt as far south as Philadelphia. Windows in lower Manhattan were broken, immigrants on Ellis Island were evacuated, and the Statue of Liberty's torch was closed to the public due to damage. An investigation later determined that the explosion was caused by German sabotage as part of an effort to prevent the United States from selling arms to the Allies. After World War I, Germany was told to pay $50 million in damages, and the last payment was made in 1979.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, Isabel has a few things that were never brought to light...
> 
> [long chapter warning!]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human (State) names:  
> Isabel Gomez (California)  
> Susanna van Laren (New Jersey)  
> Samuel Rogers (Texas)  
> Benjamin van Laren (New York)  
> Ginevra Jameson (Virginia)

"Hey, Sue," California greeted her friend after the meeting let out, resting her arms on the back of New Jersey's chair. "You wanna go out and do something? It's been awhile since we last hung out."

"Sorry, I already made plans with Sam," Her friend apologized, gaze flickering over to Texas before returning to California. "Maybe another time?"

California very carefully kept her smile in place at the same words she'd been hearing for the past three months since she'd gotten the two together. "Eh, that's okay, I'll find something else to do. You guys are doing well then?"

"Yeah, it is," New Jersey smiled winningly, gaze drifting again. "I know I said it before, but thanks."

"No problem," California waved off. "Anything for my friend, yeah?"

"Of course," New Jersey replied distractedly, grinning a bit more widely when Texas came over to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Hey, Sam,"

"Hey, Sue," He greeted, glancing up to California briefly. "Hey Bella. You ready for an early dinner?"

"Definitely," New Jersey replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek as well as he helped out of the chair.

"Right, well, you two have fun," California coughed into her hand, smile thinning just a bit when neither of them even gave her a distracted goodbye after a few seconds. Figuring she wasn't going to get anywhere else with them so distracted, she turned and made her way to the exit, looking past all the other States chatting and making plans for the evening and weekend ahead.

There was Nevada chatting up Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona, probably another card tournament if she had to make a guess. Oregon and Washington were by the other northern States, and as for the rest, well…

The western State exhaled quietly, pace picking up once she was out of the room. The faster she got back to her hotel room, the faster she could order in some takeout and just think about what she was going to do on her own.

Again.

But hey, that was life sometimes, and with Jers and Texas so enamored with each other after her efforts to nudge them together, she should be feeling elated at how wildly successful she'd been! They would get over their whole young love phase eventually and start hanging out with her again, so there was no reason to… no reason to…

~0~0~

"Hey, Sanne," New York resisted the urge to gag at the doe eyes his sister and hew new -  _gag - boyfriend_  were making at each other across the table. "You know where California is?"

"No, I haven't seen her since the meeting," New Jersey replied with a frown, arms crossed at the interruption. "Why?"

"I needed to talk about some economic stuff, but I can't find her anywhere," The Empire state frowned, wishing the meeting had been in his state rather than DC so he could just sense her that way. "You're her friend, she should have told you where she went."

"We hardly tell each other everything," The Garden state shot back. "Did you check the hotel she's staying at?"

"Apparently she already checked out."

New Jersey's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Already? I thought she'd be staying until the party tomorrow."

Texas frowned as well, brows furrowed. "Is she helping Ginny set up the party, then?"

"Nahp, Ginny's still here discussing some stuff with the South, said Cali never spoke to her about it."

"Maybe Al knows?" New Jersey offered hesitantly.

New York sighed again. "Pretty sure he's already dropping off the meeting notes, but I'll see if I can catch him on the way out."

He grumbled quietly as he left the two to their dinner again, wishing California wasn't such an elusive airhead so that he didn't have to hunt down someone who knew where the hell she'd wandered off to. The least she could have done was leave her phone on, for god's sake!

By the time he reached the White House, he was irritable enough that his shout for Alfred's attention was more of a snap, but the Nation thankfully didn't take it poorly.

"Bella?" Alfred frowned. "I thought she was spending time with Sue?"

"Sanne's spending time with the southern hick," New York replied, ignoring the sharp look he got for the insult. "And no one else has any clue where she's gone off to."

"Hold on a sec…" The Nation paused, fingers twitching twice before he shook his head in disbelief. "She's at the airport; already boarded on a flight to LA."

"What the hell's she doing going home early?"

"Last I checked, I still can't read minds. Can't really sense any sort of emergency from her place, though…"

New York pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now how'm I supposed to talk to her if she's not even on the right side of the fucking country?"

"That's what email and Skype are for."

"Mrph, but then I won't get a reply until Monday knowing her."

Alfred shrugged. "Well, maybe she just wants to relax at home. Though I thought she was planning on coming to the party…"

"Pheh, she at least could've taken her cousin with her then, spared us two headaches."

"Ben," The Nation warned.

"Yeah yeah, don't insult the others behind their backs. Thanks for the help tracking her down."

Alfred sighed, shaking his head. "No problem. Just don't be too pushy if she doesn't reply right away, alright?"

New York rolled his eyes and didn't reply, because as much as he wanted to get this discussion over with, he wasn't  _that_  eager to talk with her, and he knew she wouldn't be jumping at the bit to talk to him either. Hopefully between those things they'd just get it done with sooner rather than later so their bosses wouldn't have time to complain about delays.

~0~0~

...Alright, when he'd said get it over with sooner rather than later, he hadn't meant  _this._

New York frowned as he read over the terse email again, the two sentences basically saying she was fine with the agreement and that he could go ahead with it. He then glanced back to the documents he sent her, all eight pages, including the couple of paragraphs he'd thrown in about her tributing half her crops to him every year just to piss her off, and frowned some more.

He knew he'd been very blatant about those bits, although the rest of the document was serious enough, so she obviously had to have seen them, so where was the natural reply to fuck off with his 'sexist' proposals that had nothing to do with her being female and everything to do with her being an upstart who thought she was better than him? She practically lived off of insulting him whenever she could - it was a long standing agreement at this point, for fuck's sake!

So either she'd somehow missed an entire page of jabs at her, or she hadn't read the document that she knew would probably contain shit to snipe at, and in either case had agreed to it without even a bit of honest debate over the important points. Neither of which was like her at all.

That was…

Well, New York wasn't sure how to feel. On one hand, he could totally get away with just handing it over to his boss and saying that she had in fact agreed, see there's the email with her signature! On the other hand, no one would buy into it no matter how much proof he offered; hell, even  _he_  didn't believe it, and he had the proof in front of him!

He leaned back in his chair, trying to think of what to do now. Since he had serious doubts that an imposter had cracked her email just to do her work for her, that meant something was up with her specifically. While he would deny to his last breath caring one whit about her, there was the simple economic fact that she WAS important to the rest of the country and even the world (though to a lesser degree than himself, obviously!), and if she slacked off on her work, the economy might start slumping again, which no one wanted, especially him.

Which meant that whatever was keeping her from doing her work needed to take a hike.

Right, totally doable. At least for his sister, anyways. Nodding at his masterful plan, he reached over to grab his phone, hit the first number on autodial, and waited for New Jersey to pick up.

"What is it, Ben?" She groused once she answered. "I'm sort of busy right now."

"Can you call up California?" He asked, ignoring the impulse to ask if that stupid hick was over at her place again in order to heighten the chance of her complying. "She's not picking up for me, and her last email was off."

He could almost see his sister roll her eyes. "Maybe she just doesn't want to deal with your shit right now. If it's really that important, send her another email, or get Arizona or Nevada to talk to her. If you'll excuse me-"

The call cut off, leaving New York to flounder as he tried to figure out how that had failed so miserably. Eventually chalking it up to his sister being 'busy' as claimed, he decided to take her advice, calling up the two she'd mentioned only to get similar responses.

"Call Sam, he talks to her more than I do."

All well and good, except the hick wasn't picking up and he really didn't want to think about why that was.

Which left only one person. With a groan he dialed the number, waiting a whole three rings before Virginia finally picked up.

"Ben?"

"Hey, Ginny," He replied, exhaling as he prepared himself to explain his concerns yet again. "Have you spoken to California recently? She hasn't picked up her phone for me, and she's barely responding to my emails."

"Actually," Virginia started slowly, causing New York to sit up in his seat again as he realized he might actually get somewhere this time. "She never called back when I asked why she'd cancelled at the last minute for the party. So it wasn't just me, then?"

"Nope, doesn't seem like it. You have any clue why she'd drop off the radar like this?"

"None at all; did you ask Sue?"

New York snorted in wry amusement. "She's 'busy' with her newest fuckbuddy right now."

A sigh came over the line. "What about her other siblings?"

"None of them have spoken much with her in months."

"What about…" There was a pause. "...does she know anyone else that well?"

New York started to answer, only to stop and think back on all the people he'd ever seen her speak to for more than two minutes, only to come up short. Painfully short. "...well shit."

"Does Alfred know about this?"

"Alfred's over in Moscow right now for the World Meeting. Probably not gonna be back for weeks if he goes through with that trade agreement tour thing he was thinking about."

"Damn," Virginia replied, and long experience with her made it likely she was biting on her thumb while she thought. "Ben, what sort of meetings do you have in the next week?"

"None; this trade document with California was the only big thing I had to get done this week. Why?"

He instantly regretted being honest with her when she replied. "Get a flight over to her place and check in on her. She can't ignore you as easily if you're there in person."

"What?" He shouted, baffled at the absolute stupidity of this plan. "Why me? Why can't you go?"

"Because I'm the one doing Al's work for him in DC while he's away, remember? I can't just up and leave without saying anything, but you can."

"She hates me, remember? You at least get along with her most of the time."

He could see Virginia roll her eyes. "Just do it; you're the one who brought it up, so obviously you care about her at least a little bit."

"Only because the economy-"

"Ben."

New York exhaled sharply, knowing when he'd lost. "Fine, I'll text you when I get there."

"Good; I'll try to get an email to Al letting him know something's up just in case he has any advice we can use."

"You do that," He groused, not mentioning that he'd already sent two out that way before he'd even called her. "I need to get packing, then."

"Have fun," She replied before ending the call, the Empire state managing to last a whole three seconds past that before swearing as he went to find a smaller suitcase.

This was not how he'd planned on spending his week, damnit!

~0~0~

It took six hours and more than a few directions from Virginia, but New York finally managed to find California's house just as the sun was starting to set on this coast. He'd been lucky enough to catch a transfer flight from San Francisco over to Monterey, but the area outside the city proper was still large enough that he'd gotten lost somewhere along the way and had to backtrack.

At least the rental car was better than a taxi in the long run.

In hindsight it was obviously her house, because who else would have so many goddamned different kinds of flowers and fruit trees on their property that were actually tended to instead of just decorative? (Alright, he'd picked up a little bit of gardening from his sister, so sue him.) So why weren't the lights on even though her car was sitting in the driveway?

He bit his lip, praying internally that she was actually here and hadn't Walked off to some other part of her land where he could never hope to find her. His fears were laid to rest shortly after that, the front door opening as he sat there like an idiot. California raised an eyebrow from the doorway, waiting for him to roll down the window before calling out.

"Why are you all the way out here?"

He shouted back, "You weren't picking up calls."

"I've been busy with my gardening; I probably just didn't hear it," She shot back, waving for him to come in. "I know you didn't bother getting yourself a hotel room, so get in here so you don't have to shout about whatever is it you're here for."

He turned off the car and got out, hiding his short burst of confusion at that. He'd left messages, and knew Ginny had done the same, and California was in fact capable of using an answering machine, so that was utter bullshit. None the less, he followed her inside, waiting for her to start heading back down the hall before he shot off a fast text to Virginia.

' _She's home, let me in; claimed didnt hear phone while gardening.'_

' _answering machine?'_

' _yeah what i thought too'_

' _defintely something wrong; al hasnt replied yet, will text when he does'_

' _got it'_

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and quickly caught up with the other state, who had just poured drinks and turned to offer one to him.

"Who were you texting?" She asked, showing she hadn't missed the gesture.

"Boss complaining about my up and leaving without saying anything to him; told him to cool his heels and that I'd be back soon enough."

She hummed, leaning against the counter and sipping her drink while he sat on her table. "So he didn't ask you to come out here?"

"Not directly, no," New York admitted, ignoring the buzz of his phone. "I was actually going to talk to you about the trade proposal."

"I thought I approved it," She frowned, and in this lighting he thought he could just see the dark blotches under her eyes.

"Yeah, you did, including the parts where you offer tribute to me for the rest of our lives," He replied, trying to see what reaction that got.

Instead of anger or a sputtering denial, she just shook her head and sighed. "Look, I wasn't in the mood to go over a stupid joke like that, and I assumed you wouldn't actually keep that in the final agreement. Was that really all you needed?"

Part of him just wanted to take the offer and leave, but he knew Ginny would nag forever if he just up and left now when something was so obviously off, so instead he replied, "Actually ,Ginny wants to know why you cancelled on her. Sounded pretty upset when she brought it up."

California snorted, taking another sip afterwards. "Please, I doubt she even noticed I wasn't there; didn't most of the others stay for it?"

Okay, now this was just getting surreal. "Of course she did; spent the whole afternoon complaining about how no one else was helping her keep things under control."

"I'm sure everyone else suffered horribly, then."

That, for some reason, brought back his comment to Alfred about headaches, and he found himself biting back a wince. "Place was a bit of a mess by the time everyone left."

"It always is; maybe I just didn't feel like cleaning up this time."

"Don't worry, Ginny did more than enough bitching at the rest of us to do it ourselves," New York grumbled, glad he'd only been responsible for the small bedroom he'd kept to for most of it instead of the entire dining room some of the others had trashed.

"There you have it, didn't need me there to fix stuff," California finished off her glass, turning to wash it in the sick. "If there's nothing else you need, I can probably still find you a hotel-"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He finally snapped, just plain done with this mockery of the State who by all rights should have been snapping witty comebacks at him, not avoiding all conversation and trying to drive him out of her house without even trying to convince him to buy something.

(...well, not the first part anyways, the second was somewhat understandable.)

"You won't answer calls, you barely respond to emails, and now you won't even man up and fight me. Ginny agrees with me, so don't even think of waving it off as my imagination."

"Why do you care? You hate my guts."

New York sighed. "I don't hate you; you're a pain in the ass and could have your ego deflated a few notches, but hate's a word I reserve for England exclusively." He paused. "And Percy on game nights."

She stared at him in disbelief. "I've heard you complain about me enough to be fairly sure of how you feel about me, Yank. I figured you'd be glad not to have to deal with me nitpicking all the bills and trade agreements and shit you throw my way."

"Glad?" New York raised an eyebrow. "Who else is supposed to keep me on my toes when it comes to economics? None of the others know how to finance their way out of a paper bag besides Ginny, and I'm not exactly crazy enough to pick fights with her regularly."

"So what, you want your little upstart to come back just so you can rag on me some more?" California snorted. "Thanks but no thanks. Maybe try playing with Quebec for a while instead."

"Do you even hear yourself?" He gaped, unable to believe that California was just - giving up like this. "He's a fucking idiot, and you're- you're-"

"-only useful when I offer something people want," She replied flatly. "Once they have what they need, might as well throw me back in the bin until they need something else from me."

"That's not what I was going to say," New York denied, raising his hands defensively.

"But it's what you meant," She shot back at him. "No one has ever given a fuck about me once they've gotten something from me; not Spain, not Mexico, not Alfred, not Sue, and definitely not you or any of the other States. So stop pretending you give a fuck and tell me what you want."

"I want you back," He replied tentatively, feeling like he was seeing something he was never meant to see.

"Tough shit; get a new playtoy for your delusions of grandeur. I'm done being thrown away."

California swept out of the room, leaving New York to stand there awkwardly wishing he'd never let Ginny pressure him into coming, because he absolutely sucked at emotions, especially the ones that implied deeper issues that had apparently never been dealt with. With a groan he pulled his phone out, forgoing texts in favor of calling Virginia despite the late hour on that side.

"Ben, what happened?"

"Fuck, I don't know, I just-" He grimaced, exhaustion of the physical and mental kind starting to sink in. "I tried talking to her, getting her to fess up, and when I finally just told her I was onto her she just went off the rails, and I have no clue how to deal with it."

"Explain everything," She demanded, the last fringes of exhaustion leaving her voice.

He complied without a fight, repeating almost everything word for word, and some parts twice when she wanted clarification. It wasn't hard to hear the disbelief and anger starting to grow in her voice, not directed at him but at the world in general. "And Alfred never bothered to tell me that his new Golden State was suffering from abandonment issues?"

"Well, we weren't exactly welcoming when she first joined us," He noted, wishing the issue wasn't so blindingly obvious and that he wasn't feeling so queasy because of it.

"I know, and he was probably trying to respect her privacy by not saying anything," She swore under her breath before continuing. "I'm going to shoot a message off to Alfred letting him know to call me as soon as possible, and I'm going to catch the first flight out of here tomorrow morning to join you."

"Are you sure?" He asked, wondering how long it'd take to hear Virginia chew out their Nation for once again not thinking these things through and leaving problems alone to fester.

"Of course I'm sure; I'm bringing out Sue and Sam as well."

He raised an eyebrow. "How're you doing that?"

"By telling them that if they don't I am going to personally go over to her house and kick both their asses, especially Sam's for not bothering to mention something like this."

He whistled, imagining how that would go and finding himself glad he'd gone along with her plan without too much of a fight. "And what'm I supposed to do then?"

"Well, considering she'd probably crying right now, your best bet would be to go in there and comfort her."

"But-"

" _ **Ben.**_ "

"Yes ma'am," He squeaked out, swallowing in fear. "I'll get right on that."

"Good; I'll be there by lunch tomorrow her time, with Sue and Sam in tow. Keep an ear out for the car, will you?"

"Got it," He replied. "See you then."

The call ended, his hands coming up to rub at his face the second he put the phone down on the counter. This would have been so much easier if he were anyone else, but as it was, he was not about to piss off an already angry Virginia and risk that wrath coming down on him if he could avoid it.

(He quietly admitted to himself that he didn't exactly like knowing he'd made California cry, because she was supposed to be strong and careless, but now…)

Splashing himself in the face with some water, he shook his head and made his way out of the kitchen, now intent on finding California's bedroom to try and provide, well, some form of comfort.

(He only hoped he didn't fuck this up just as horribly, but he had a feeling that'd be hard to do at this point. Only way to go from rock bottom was up, right?)

~0~0~

By the time the next day had rolled around, California and New York had entered a silent, uneasy truce. He didn't mention how red her eyes were or how dark the bags under them had become, and she didn't try to kick him out of the house for pushing her until she broke down in tears. He was fairly certain this was not what Virginia was expecting of him, but he knew absolutely jack shit about dealing with psychological issues and figured she would handle things far better if he didn't start things off with another marvelous fuck up.

The sound of a car horn had never been more welcome in his life, and he gladly abandoned helping California make lunch in favor of rushing for the door, opening to reveal that Virginia had indeed succeeded in dragging her two current victims along. New Jersey and Texas were both looking absolutely chastised, the guilt only growing when he heard California walk up behind him.

"Ginny? Sue? Sam?" He could hear the accusation in her voice directed at him and he didn't bothering turning around to see the look she must have shot him. "Why are you here?"

"Because we owe you help and more than a few apologies," Virginia replied, walking past New York to rest a hand on California's shoulder, expression softening. "Especially Alfred for not saying anything again."

"Is he here too?" California's eyes widened, turning back to the doorway as if she'd catch sight of the Nation despite him still being on the other side of the planet.

"No, he's still in Moscow, but he'll be coming straight here once the meetings have wrapped up," Virginia replied, gesturing for the other two States to come in so the door could be closed. "Seriously, I know I didn't raise that boy to let problems fester like this…"

"It's not a problem," California denied sharply. "I don't know what Yank told you, but I've been handling myself just fine until now, so you don't have to waste your time."

"I think it becomes a problem when you try to cut yourself off from the rest of us under some delusion that we all hate you," The eastern State shot back.

"Why didn't you say anything?" New Jersey asked quietly, drawing California's attention.

"Why didn't you say anything about your fear of flying?"

"That's-" His sister cut herself off, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Bella," Texas stepped in, moving towards her to give her a hug, only to pause when she stepped away. "I'm so sorry-"

"Sam, you don't have to-"

"I do," He cut in, scowling as he pressed forward again. "I heard about your fight with Spain and Mexico back during the UN Charter signing; I should have realized then I was just as much at fault as them, but I didn't let myself."

He pulled her into a hug, tight enough to keep her from squirming away again. "I was stupid as a kid, always leaving you alone even though I was the closest to you. I always told myself that you were too far away, that I was too old to play with little kids, that I wouldn't be taken seriously if I wasted time worrying about you. But I was being selfish, trying to get in with the other States while you were left to suffer alone; I let myself be convinced you didn't need me there, even when it was so obvious you did those few times I actually did drop by."

New Jersey seemed to regain her confidence by then, stepping forward to rest hands on her friend's shoulders. "I should have seen it too - you called all the time even after we'd only just become friends, always pushing to get time with me when you could. I just thought you were trying to skive off your work or get out of meetings, so I didn't think much about it when I had to turn you down.

"I didn't even really realize it until Ginny pointed it out, but you started calling me way more often after Sam and I started dating, and I started turning you down more. I'm so sorry for making you think I was abandoning you for him; you're my best friend, Bella, and I can't tell you enough how much you mean to me."

It was about then that California gave up the last semblance of control, pressing her face into her cousin's shoulder and starting to shake in place while he simply held her close, New Jersey and Virginia exchanging determined looks over her shoulder. New York looked away from the scene, feeling more awkward and out of place than ever, before someone rested a hand on his own shoulder.

"Thank you for helping her," His sister told him quietly, smiling self-deprecatingly. "You've been a better friend to her in the past day that I have in the past few months."

"I didn't exactly do much," He replied, shaking his head. "It was Ginny who kicked my ass into gear and got you guys and Alfred to all come over; I just kept her from running and hiding."

"Which is more than I've done," She corrected. "I didn't even realize she wasn't at the party; what sort of friend misses that?"

"We all have a lot to make up to her," Virginia joined them, looking the entirety of her four hundred years and then some. "I only hope we aren't too late to help her."

"She'll come back to us," New York replied, quiet but confident in at least that much. "She's too much of a stubborn upstart to give up over something like this."

The two women at his side snorted quietly, but they were smiling a bit more honestly now.

"I suppose that's true," Virginia conceded. "She wouldn't have made it this far without a good amount of tenacity."

"Makes sense," He replied. "She  _is_  American, after all."

(And if that was closest he'd ever get to admitting she was a part of the oddball, eclectic family that made up the United States, well, at least it was something.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so in other news, I wasn't quite planning on writing 5000 words of hurt/comfort fluff nonsense yesterday, but somehow I did, and I really sort of got into a few things I wanted to get into at the same time – a deeper look at the relationship between New York and California, the darker side of her psyche she really doesn't like showing off, and that Alfred is still really bad about actually dealing with his State's problems when they aren't directly getting in the way of their normal lives.
> 
> To be clear as well, I'm not saying Isabel doesn't have some blame in all this – she could have brought it up at any point when she was truly insecure with her standing – but at the same time I feel it's all too understandable why she didn't think anyone would be willing to listen even if she did. (Sam, of course, was not happy when she mentioned that bit.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it has certainly been a long time since I've updated here. I have no excuse for that, although I've been doing plenty of writing in this 'verse. 
> 
> This particular piece is set just before the Continental Congress convened in Philadelphia. There's a reference to Britain closing the port in Boston. Beyond that, there's violence in the story ahead, on the part of England, that would likely be considered abuse. If this isn't your thing, you might want to skip this particular short story.

 

New Jersey is tying the rosemary for drying when she hears the pounding on her door. She startles, frowning, and sets the bundle down. She doesn't know who could be visiting her—she hasn't been expecting anyone, and she's due to leave for Philadelphia within the week.

The banging on the door cuts off abruptly, and New Jersey is about to investigate the raised voices she hears when the maid bursts into the kitchen. "Miss Susanna," she gasps, clutching at the door frame, "Lord Kirkland is here!" She looks over her shoulder worriedly and adds, "He's angry."

New Jersey swears. She runs her hands worriedly over her skirts, clutching reflexively at her apron. "Did he bring soldiers with him?" Many of her people are angry over being forced to quarter redcoats—the soldiers move in like they own everything around them—and she doesn't know what she'd do if England brought his men here.

She'd never make it out to Pennsylvania.

The maid shakes her head. "Jack didn't see any. He was out watering the horses when Lord Kirkland rode down the lane and order him to see to his stallion."

New Jersey grimaces. It's been getting harder and harder for her to temper the dislike sparking in her gut whenever she thinks about England. More and more, she wants him off of her land, no matter how unsure she might be of  revolution as a solution.

"Miss Susanna," the maid says urgently. "You mustn't keep him waiting!"

"All right, Lydia," she sighs. "Okay. I'm going. Would you just—keep tending to the rosemary." New Jersey doesn't miss the flash of relief that crosses her face. England's appearance has shaken her deeply.

An uncharitable part of New Jersey thinks it isn't fair, that she's the one who has to confront England, while Lydia can stay in the comforting confines of the kitchen, where the scent of calming herbs is heavy in the air.

But New Jersey pushes that thought away quickly. Lydia is human, and she's younger than New Jersey is. England is her responsibility, and no one else's. He's come to see her, anyway, and he surely would take offense, if she were to force him to deal with the humans she employs.

She straightens her shoulders and unwinds the apron from her waist. "I'll be back in a bit," she says to Lydia, as much to reassure herself as the other woman.

"Miss Susanna," Lydia starts, "please just—"

"I know, Lydia," New Jersey says quietly. "I'll be careful."

She can't justify stalling any longer, and she knows that the more she avoids England, the angrier he'll be, so she forces herself out of the kitchen. Her footsteps sound louder than normal against the wooden floor of the hallway, and New Jersey belatedly wishes that she and Lydia hadn't hung the rugs out to air.

When she reaches the drawing room door, she wonders if England can hear her coming.

New Jersey takes a deep, steadying breath and enters.

"There you are, Susanna," England says when she's shut the door behind her. He's staring out the window and doesn't turn around. "What in the world could have possibly kept you so long?"

England's voice is quiet, but New Jersey can hear the barely-controlled anger underneath that deceptively mild tone, and she can't help the shudder that shoots up her spine. He's not even looking at her, she thinks, somewhat distressed.

"I was drying herbs," she says softly. She keeps her eyes trained down at his feet, and hates herself a little for that.

Massachusetts had stared him dead in the eye and had dared him to shoot, and New Jersey can barely lift her head.

England whirls around to face her so fast that New Jersey takes a step back, her eyes flying up to meet his.

"Governor Franklin has been very dissatisfied with you lately," England says. New Jersey's jaw clenches, but she bites her tongue, and when she doesn't respond, England continues. "Your Assembly has been belligerent, and the governor has been in need of your assistance in cooling them down."

He seems to be expecting an answer, so New Jersey says, tightly, "I cannot control them."

England's eyes narrow. "Our King is even more displeased with you, with all of you," he says. His voice is deadly quiet, and New Jersey feels the first spark of fear in her belly. "You're lucky that Governor Franklin has put in a good word for you, at least, despite the annoyance."

New Jersey's jaw drops. "Annoyance?" She blurts, "Displeasure?" She closes her mouth with a clack when she sees England's face twist with anger.

"Exactly that, Susanna. The actions of these colonists are not befitting proper subjects of the Crown."

She knows it's a bad idea as soon as she opens her mouth again, but she can't seem to help herself when she cries, "You're the one who told us we've given up our rights as English subjects! You've told us that we aren't entitled to the same rights and protections as those living in Britain! And you've forced soldiers upon our people, and raised our taxes without consent—"

"Only to pay for that which you owe for protection against the French and those savages," England snarls.

New Jersey ignores him, voice rising hysterically, "And you've unlawfully closed our ports and massacred our people—"

She doesn't see the blow coming, but she feels the white hot burst of pain in her jaw when he hits her. She startles, yelping like a wounded animal, and loses her balance, dropping to her knees with a thump. New Jersey raises astonished eyes to England's and slowly lifts a hand to her mouth.

Her fingers come away bloody.

"You—" she starts. The metallic, iron taste of blood is thick on her tongue.

England steps forward, sneering when New Jersey jerks back, and crouches in front of her. His hand comes up to cup her jaw. He lifts her chin and stares directly into her eyes. "Do not cross me, girl," he says quietly. His hand shifts, and New Jersey feels his fingers curling around her neck. "You'll regret the day you do."

New Jersey trembles beneath his heavy hand, but she forces herself to say, "You've no right."

He squeezes, and New Jersey chokes on the words.

"I've every right," he replies. The pressure around her throat tightens, and she feels his fingers digging into her skin. "You're mine. My property to do with as I please. You exist for the pleasure of the Crown. Do not forget that."

New Jersey curls her fingers in her skirts, and tries to draw in air around the squeeze of his hand. England presses harder and only relents when New Jersey begins to see spots dancing before her eyes. She gasps, shuddering, when he drops his hand and stands.

"Remember," he says again, "Or I'll make you wish you were never born."

He turns away and leaves the room without a backwards glance. New Jersey can only watch him go with wide, terrified eyes, still trembling where he left her. Distantly, she can hear the front door slam, so she forces herself to her feet, though her legs are shaky.

She's not sure how she finds the strength, but she only stumbles twice as she tries to make her way back to the kitchen.

She walks as if in a daze till she finds Lydia where she left her, at the table with the rosemary.

The maid looks up when she enters, a smile on her lips, and New Jersey watches with a detached sort of fascination as her face twists in horror. "Lord above," she breathes, leaping to her feet. "Oh, Miss, what did he  do to you?"

New Jersey flinches at the sudden movement, and Lydia is much more careful when she reaches to press a rag to her bloody mouth. It's only when Lydia rubs a thumb under her eyes that New Jersey realizes she's been crying, too.

"He…" she starts, voice raspy. She cuts the words off and starts again, heart pounding in her chest. She doesn't want to relive those moments. "I need to go to Philadelphia," she says instead. "Help me pack."

"It's so late in the day," Lydia starts, "and your face…"

"Philadelphia," she repeats, latching on to the one thing that will get her away from here. "I need—"

"Okay," Lydia says, "all right. Let me draw a bath for you first, and then I'll gather your things. And you'll need something for your throat."

"No tea," New Jersey croaks.

"Broth," Lydia replies. "Now come."

New Jersey does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've covered a few of the things here that were among the causes of the American Revolution, including the closures of Boston port and the Boston Massacre and the quartering of soldiers. In addition to that, the American colonists did not believe that they were be treated like proper British subjects, because Parliament passed laws that affected the colonies without actually consulting the colonists who lived there. While independence was a last resort when no compromise with the crown could be reached, the tension had been building steadily for years.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly, Texas and New Jersey have wildly different reactions to getting into a minor accident...

"How often do you drive this?" Texas asked his girlfriend from behind the wheel, fingers tapping idly on the steering wheel as they made their way down some of the lesser used roads of New Jersey.

"Only when I'm picking up my brother or Bella from the airport, really, and sometimes not even then if we're staying in the city the entire time," New Jersey replied, having been giving him directions in between their idle chatter. "It's usually just easier to Walk when I'm on my own."

"Guess that makes sense," He replied, slowing the car down slightly as he spied a deer peeking from around the trees. "I like taking my car out for a bit just to enjoy the scenery. It's slower than walking, but sometimes you get to see things you might've missed by Walking."

"You and Bella are so alike," The smaller state snorted, though there was an amused smile on her face. "I suppose it's just a large state thing."

"And Alfred, of course."

"Of course."

"I do like seeing this side of you too, though," Texas continued. "The empty parts, I mean. It's sorta like seeing into the past, remembering how things used to be."

"Only with the benefits of air conditioning and cellphones in case we get stuck," New Jersey replied dryly, unable to keep back her laugh after he started chuckling.

"Fair enough, there are benefits to being in the present. Still, I think our lands say a lot about the sort of people we are."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Me? I'm all open plains and lowlands. I tend to keep going on the steady, no shaking things up or making a huge deal out of things if I don't have to. But sometimes, if my temper gets going, whew! You remember that last lightning storm at my place, don't you?"

"It was definitely something else," She agreed. "What about… Bella, then?"

"She's everywhere. She's dragged me around enough of her place to see that she's got a hundred different faces, which're all still her to be fair, but she's the most honest when she's at home, looking out over the ocean. She hops from hill to hill like she does her ideas and interests, and sometimes she tends to overshadow you, but if you're willing to look past that, you'll see she's got a huge heart'a gold, to excuse the pun."

"I bet she'd be red in the face if she ever heard you say that," New Jersey teased, grinning widely.

"Nah, she gets more than enough complimenting from all the tourists who pass through," He joked back, though she could easily see the light flush dusting his cheeks. "There's a reason she likes to play tour guide in her free time."

"It's not the same and you know it," She disagreed, leaning over with a sly smile. "Speaking of which… what do you think about me?"

"You like to keep to yourself, not because you're shy but because you just don't feel like sharing unless you have to." He turned his head enough to look her in the eye, smiling softly. "People might not always think you have a lot going for you, but that's just because they don't bother to look."

And here he gestured out to the woods again, where he'd slowed down enough for the small family of deer grazing just a few feet from them to look up, but otherwise not startle. "Anyone with eyes and patience could see you're a gorgeous woman with more depth to her than any guy could hope."

"Okay, now I know you're just making this up as you go along," The smaller state shoved at her boyfriend. "Not that I don't appreciate the compliments, of course."

"I'm just calling it like I see it," He denied, leaving over to give her a kiss. "Can't help if it's the honest tru-"

"Sam, car!" New Jersey suddenly yelped, having just caught sight of the parked vehicle out of the corner of her eye.

Texas slammed on the brakes, though the skid still had them just bumping into the other vehicle and leaving the two lovebirds frazzled and broken of the mood. "Shit, gave me a heart attack there, Sue."

"Sorry I was trying to keep you from totalling two cars," She shot back, unbuckling her belt and opening the car door. "Was anyone in the other one?"

"Doesn't seem like," Her boyfriend noted, doing the same on his side and coming around to access the damage. "Damn, looks like some dents. Hope they aren't too pissed when they get back…"

With a shake of her head, the eastern state made her way to the trunk of the car, waiting for her boyfriend to pop it open from the dashboard while he reached over to grab the pad of paper in the storage compartment.

"Hey, you wanna give them my information your yours- what the hell?" He yelped as he looked up from his hasty scribbling, just catching his girlfriend about to start pouring gasoline around the other car.

"They can't pin this on us if there's no evidence," She replied. "Give me the matches once you're done with that."

"No, we aren't setting their car on fire!" He denied, marching over to grab the can from her unsuccessfully. "It was just a minor accident!"

"That'll go on my records if anyone finds out! I have to keep it clean or else I'll have to pay twice as much for my insurance."

"Look, if we just leave some money for repairs and an apology note, will you promise not to set their car on fire?"

New Jersey looked from her boyfriend to the other car, and then to the gas canister in her hands.

"Fine," She sighed. "But only because I don't want to have to refill this next time we're in town."

Texas just shook his head and finished the apology note he'd been working on, leaving off his name and number, before grabbing his wallet to pull out a few bills. He loved his girlfriend, really he did, but sometimes moments like this made him wonder just what was in the water on the eastern seaboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A State drabble from me (aka Ashynarr) that ISN'T about California? What is this world coming to? Of course, this is what happens when you see a roosterteeth tumblr post which amounts to 'in texas you get an apology note, in new jersey they burn the evidence'. Naturally, my friend egged me into writing this, so here we are. Whoops.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabel has a secret. Well, she has plenty of those, but these two in particular are ones she does not want getting out.
> 
> (Slight AU, perhaps)

It isn't often that Isabel Gomez, otherwise known as the State of California, really stops to ponder her own existence. She is a very busy woman, after all, constantly caught up in the affairs of her people and the rest of the world that demands everything just to keep her on top of things. When she does get free time, she does her best to spend it with her small pool of friends and family or, more often, tending to her not so humble garden around her property.

But sometimes, in the late hours before she's quite tired enough to go to sleep, she looks to her collections of things from her people and her travels over the past two hundred and somethings years, and marvels at the fact that she is not in the least human.

Oh, she never really forgets that fact, but it's much easier for everyone she interacts with and herself if she's _just_ human. A very snarky, stubborn, and knowledgeable human, but nothing too impossible to the average person's mind. It's just that, sometimes, she wonders why she's been stuck with the burden of nearly forty million people's dreams and desires and hopes and messes without any sort of fun benefit to make up for it.

Alfred, her ultimate boss and her country, has super-strength beyond anything in the comics or movies, and had been her main motivation in getting Evans into the Marvel movies as the captain representing Al's ideals. Matthew, to the north, could turn invisible, unnoticeable, and had a freaking magical talking polar bear to boot.

England and his buddies had actual magic, Russia had that fear aura thingy, China had hammerspace capabilities, the Italies were impossibly fast on their feet, and she was fairly certain Japan had some form of receptive empathic ability, though she hadn't yet gotten permission to investigate it.

(Mexico had unnatural accuracy, especially with footwear, and Spain could speak to animals. Even if she didn't like them, she'd put them down faithfully in her journal alongside all the other personifications so that she could compare and contrast and examine her data points more effectively.)

Even the other states and provinces and 'subunits' she was aware of had some sort of supernatural ability - Sue's plants grew more quickly and abundantly than most, and weeds somehow only grew when she needed relaxation time in her garden. Sam could calm a horse or bull down in seconds, and always seemed to know when something was wrong with them even before they showed any outward signs.

Ginny had to have some sort of precognition to be on top of internal matters as she was, always calling or showing up just before things got completely out of hand, and that was without mentioning her actual magical abilities. Even Ben, jerk that he was, has always been able to catch a lie before it could even finished forming.

But where did that leave her? As far as she'd been able to figure, nothing she did was actually outside of what would be considered normal for any randomly chosen citizen.

She didn't have some grand form of luck despite her long history - believe her, more than enough shit went down to make up for the more well known 'bright spots' - and her sweet talking wasn't flawless enough to be considered special. She couldn't charm animals, or get a feel of future events, or push herself beyond human (well, Nation really) limits, or even get stuff to move with her mind.

The idea of even claiming she had some form of magic was laughable, as she'd played with everything from the classical elements to the four fundamental forces only to feel the same, well, nothing she always had, except tinged with frustration after each successive failure. She was, in a word, mundane, and though she doubted any of the others had realized this, it still bothered her more than it should have.

She was successful beyond most people's wildest dreams, had survived horrors to achieve wealth and prestige. She could walk into almost any high class venue on Earth and be accepted, was involved heavily with international politics despite being a State, and had centuries of immortal youth and beauty to look forward to.

Isabel sighed, shaking her head and setting the book she'd been trying to read aside for the evening. There really wasn't a point in getting worked up about it, and she needed rest before tomorrow's meetings. She could think on such things another day.

~0~0~

Isabel has a well maintained journal, the first edition's resting pages having originally been given to her by Alfred when she was still young and embittered at the world. She'd started it out with some personal thoughts, as she'd been told it was useful for, but the journal quickly morphed into questions of what the other Nations could do that she'd never seen humans do, and how all of them seemed to differ in both abilities and strengths thereof.

From there came The List. It'd been rewritten half a dozen times on the first draft alone, and had gone through perhaps several dozen revisions over the past century. In it was not only the full extent of every Nation's (and spirit's) capabilities, but also how strong said abilities were, how controlled, and how they ranked against others with the same abilities.

It's perhaps the most thorough study of her own kind ever made, simply because she has the time and resources to complete it, as well as the obsession. She's gotten over the worst of it, or so she convinces herself most days, but that's no reason to not keep her journal up to date on the off chance it's useful.

As such, it's plain as day that she'd at some point go over her notes while some cooking show played on the TV, her body sprawled across the fold-out couch (permanently pulled out for maximum comfort area), piles of pillows and blankets pressed to the wall and providing a convenient place to stuff her journal when she senses her cousin at the door.

Unfortunately, she'd failed to stuff it all the way into the mass of pillows and sheets, meaning that a small corner of it was visible when Sam entered the room a few moments later, intending to find a good seat while Isabel threw together lunch for their movie binge. And it's natural that, being related to such an inquisitive woman, that he would take interest in what she'd been working on before he got there.

As such, it's more than a bit awkward when she catches him staring somewhat nervously at the detailed entry of his own capabilities, some of which he hadn't even realized had been that special before it'd been laid out in neat blue ink.

Isabel is not in the least amused.

~0~0~

"You don't have everyone in here."

His cousin glances up to him, somewhat softened from earlier's tirade about snooping in other people's business, which is laughable when she has an entire goddamned study paper in here about 99% of the supernatural world. "Of course not; I don't know much about the Nations who don't show up to the meetings, and it's not like I can just go up and interview all the other districts or states or what have you that work for their respective Nations."

"I meant you."

"Why would I put myself in there?" She asks reasonably, tilting her head and frowning. "I know where I rank compared, and it was supposed to be private anyways."

It's reasonable, and yet. He looks back down to the charts and carefully organized entries, the care put into every letter and sentence and line.

"You don't seem like the type to keep track of all of this and not at least note down where you're stronger or weaker than the others."

Her gaze on him is closed in, calculating, and he thinks maybe she's considering whether to throw him out of the house, all before she seems to slump into herself and close her eyes. "That's because I don't have magic, Sam. There's nothing there because there's literally nothing worth comparing."

He thinks she's joking or being humble for maybe three seconds. Then he realizes she's serious, because self-deprecation is not her style.

He also considers the idea that she's just missed something obvious, like her luck or her skill with money or her way with people, but someone who's kept a hundred years of meticulously organized records on nearly every Nation on the planet would be hard pressed to miss their own talents even if they were capable of humility.

When he looks back at her to see her staring at him, he's at a complete loss of words, because simply put - What The Actual Fuck?

The full story comes in fits and starts, his cousin's reluctance to show concern with the past or herself warring with the lack of desire for another heart to heart intervention and her trust that he would keep his mouth shut. Not even Sue could know, not even Alfred, and there was something in that gaze that had him already deciding he wasn't going to break the promise escaping his lips anytime soon.

But the idea that she'd made such a study simply because she could not understand why she was singled out in this way… it was perhaps more understandable considering the exact same question was now bothering him. Why, of all the Nations around, would his cousin be left as the only non-magical non-human?

When talents came with birth, it couldn't be blamed on her rapid growth. Nor could he point to any obvious aspect of her daily life and claim it was something Else, for she already had three papers each time showing the opposite. A hundred years was a disturbingly long and short period of time to know such things so thoroughly, and he couldn't help but imagine how she'd looked in those early days, when she'd first gotten the feeling something was wrong.

(No, not _wrong_ , because applying that word to Isabel is impossible, except perhaps when she lets her ego get ahead of her. Odd, then, or suspicious.)

He's learned more about himself and everyone he knows (and many he doesn't) in the past few hours than he has over the past few centuries. He's learned something new about his cousin as well, how her fluttering interests and phases and obsessions are just waves on the surface of an extremely dedicated, meticulous sort of focus that he imagines would exhaust anyone else.

(And that fact that even something related to that, capabilities of the mind itself, had already been explored and discarded said… quite a lot about for far she was willing to search for answers.)

"Maybe the world knew you wouldn't need it," He'd eventually offered, late in the night, while they'd both been allowing themselves to drift towards sleep. "Not much of it seems to be useful outside of specific cases for the rest of us anyways."

She'd only hummed in response, keeping whatever thoughts she had on the issue to herself. If it affected her in any way, he doubted he would ever really know before she let him know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after some fun contemplation with my friend as to what supernatural abilities all the various Nations and States have or would have based on their personalities, I sat back and realized that... I never gave Bella any powers. And I never actually intended to, because to me she doesn't need them to be awesome. Which then led to the idea of her making a journal on everyone else's abilities.
> 
> Yeah, it's not really a sad AU, but it's definitely something I doubt many other people would take time to explore? It's also building on that old old bunny of mine where Alfred's the only Nation w/o magic, except it's not the same continuity at all honestly. So... shrugs?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few AUs and Isabel's thoughts on them.

The thing about a low-level restriction on visits to the Stargate, Isabel thinks, is that someone like her (or Ben, she concedes) only needs to see it once in order to really comprehend what she's witnessing. It's the beginning of history, the first wave of a gold rush that will put her own to shame in good time once word gets out.

Soldiers hem and haw, tell her she can't take pictures or sketchings due to security risks, and she simply smiles and goes with it, never letting them know she's a good enough memory to sketch it from her mind's eye later, in the safety of her house. They think she's just a supplier, a friend of Alfred's who is just harmless enough that they can take her camera and feel confident in their continued security.

They can never know to just what extent her calculations are extending, how ready she is to strike out first into the vast new, untouched worlds that will provide so many new people and resources and possibilities that she's already close to drooling over it all.

All it will take, fortunately, is the opportunity to pull an Alfred and get offworld long enough to make a trade agreement with a new culture.

All it will take, unfortunately, is the opportunity to pull an Alfred that everyone will be on guard against, because if _he_ died on what was supposed to be a simple mission, how long would _they_ last?

But Isabel, the girl who started with nothing and came out with everything, isn't afraid of a bit of patience. She knows she'll know her chance when she sees it, and it's better to spend time preparing so she can jump on it right away rather than scramble over a quickly closed window. She also knows Ben is considering something similar, and thinks that, for once, cooperation will be in both their better interests.

If their trade talks after the next State's meeting goes on a bit longer than usual, well, that's not too unusual, all things considered. They've long been known to debate over every detail of a document two pages long, and they'll have extra pages today.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

There's very few things in life that can catch Ben off guard, and it's doubly uncommon for him to show it where others can see it. He figures, and rightfully so, that he has a good handle on the general habits and personalities of his fellow States and a good chunk of the Nations he interacts regularly with, because he has to in order to be as good as he is in economics.

However, Isabel has always been one to defy his expectations just when he thinks he has a handle on her, and today is no different, seeing as she's somehow gotten into his apartment despite it being locked and in his land, already nursing a glass of the (thankfully cheaper) wine he'd hidden in his cupboard for long weeks or cooking. Her gaze flickers up to his, and he's more annoyed she doesn't look guilty than he is concerned about the unusual frown on her face.

"Is there a reason you're ruining my couch?" He asks her, grabbing the bottle from the counter to put away before she drinks any more of it without at least paying for it.

"Ginny's gotten together with Sue," Is all she gives for an answer, taking another long sip of her drink while he goes completely rigid.

"But I thought she was with that hi- southerner." He corrects at the last second, mind whirling at the absolute brain tilt he'd just had shoved in his face.

"Ginny's also gotten together with Sam," Isabel replies casually, and Ben stares at her for even longer before heading to the kitchen, grabbing another glass, marching back to the open end of the couch and sitting down in it.

He had a feeling it was going to be a long explanation.

As they work their way through the bottle, he's gifted the first definitive news of what, exactly, had gone down during the Fourth of July birthday party at Alfred's place. Naturally, Ginny had been there first, with a visiting Isabel there to help start the longest roasts. By the time they were getting to the rearrangement of furniture to fit some seventy-odd people (the states, Al, and Matthew and his provinces), Sue and Sam had arrived to offer help since the latter had been at the end of his visit to the former anyways.

Apparently, Isabel had left the other three alone to handle some calls from the other states who would be arriving late and needed to be picked up. By the time she'd finished up, she'd peeked into the kitchen, caught Ginny locking lips with his sister (an image he vowed to scrub from his head with as much alcohol as needed) while Sam pressed them both to the counter with a wide-ass grin.

She'd quite sensibly excused herself upstairs to check on the guest rooms while they'd been busy, and had set herself the tasks of picking up the slack of ordering people through cleaning up, to rooms or sleeping bags after they'd disappeared later that evening. He'd wondered at the time why she'd ended up in charge of that, and now he regretted his damnable curiosity once again.

"Why aren't you happy for them?" He'd finally asked after she'd gone quiet, contemplating the last of the bottle still swirling in her glass. "Aren't you all about happy ever afters and romance?"

"Because I did so well last time Sam and Sue got together, right?" She'd replied quietly, giving him a knowing look that had him blushing more than he liked in embarrassment at her directed reference.

"Why me, then?"

"Because Al's not around, and even if we annoy each other, you did help last time. I'm not planning on making it a habit, if that's what worrying you, I just figured we'd both feel better handling this mess if we weren't sober."

"Fair enough," He conceded, waiting for her to finish her drink before taking both their glasses to the kitchen to be washed and set to dry. "You're still sleeping on the couch."

Ben was even forgiving enough to ignore the half-hearted flick of her finger in his direction before she was temporarily out of view.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Come on, you greedy beasts, help me drag this in so we all can eat."

The dragonets obliged, the golden one screeching at the others to grab hold of parts of the wonky science experiment bird that was somehow still edible despite all logic of alien ecosystems claiming that should be unlikely.

Isabel wasn't going to complain, however, because the meat would be a nice reprieve from fish and fruit and what roots and mushrooms she could tentatively put down as edible. Even if her supernatural constitution made poisoning more a discomfort than a problem, she wasn't fond of wasting an afternoon hating her life, so she stuck to what was safe unless necessary.

After a few more tugs, the bird was clear of the underbrush and the small trap she'd put together just to catch something like it. The dragonets broke away, landing on trees or the ground while she pulled out her swiss army knife and started hacking away at the body. The belly was carefully torn open, guts pulled out and thrown to the waiting party, each quick to snap up whatever came near them. Next came the muscles, her own meal once she got back to camp and started cooking it all over a fire, and these went into her specially repurposed carry bag.

Finally, she went back to the head, carefully tapping the skull before bringing the butt of the knife down enough to crack the bone, using the knife end to tear open the skin and pick apart some of the thin bone. The gold dragonet, recognizing the now familiar offering, swooped down and got to work pulling more shards away, stuffing her face into the opening to get at the rare treat. The others of the flock followed, tearing into the remains of the bird she hadn't taken as she moved away.

Shaking her head in amusement, Isabel turned and started walking back to the beach, humming under her breath. For someone who'd been away from civilization for nearly a month, she'd been doing surprisingly well for herself despite her early worries. The fruits were plentiful and varied (and mostly safe to consume), the seas abounded with fish, and the trees provided shelter and resources to put together the basic tools she hadn't had with her when she'd first arrived in this place.

Surprisingly, she'd also ended up with company, something she'd stressed over since she'd first noticed the connection to her people felt... muffled. It was still there, but she couldn't get any sort of information from it besides the fact that her people existed, and it'd made it hard to focus those first few days.

Then the dragonets had come across her, observing her traps and shelter before deciding that she was apparently safe enough to work with.

Needless to say, she'd been shocked when she'd seen more than a dozen small dragons herding a panicking bird right into her net, a clearly intelligent and cooperative plan that provided enough food for everyone by the time it'd finally been stripped to the bone and feathers. It'd been a hearty meal, made more memorable from how strangely alien the creatures were with their faceted eyes.

They didn't always stick around after that, but she usually saw them several times a week, either gliding around and diving into the ocean or basking and rolling around on the sands. She even watched how they fished in turns, or how they carefully tended to each other in elaborate grooming rituals that seemed to point to some vague hierarchy within the flock.

The gold was obviously on top, followed by her favorite bronzes. After them seemed to be the greens, with the browns and blues at a vague bottom that might have just been something peculiar to this group and not a firm thing. She obviously couldn't be positive without running into more groups, but she hadn't seen any others yet, so for now she contented herself with what her flock would tell her.

(Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if they were studying her as well. For a wild species, they were certainly curious and bold.)

By the time she reached her camp, the sun was starting to sink towards evening, and her fire was still smouldering enough that it only took a bit of encouragement and fuel to get it back to a comfortable flame to cook her meat over. Her makeshift pans were laid out, meat strips carefully set across them before she banked the flames and set the meat-bearing rocks on top of the embers to cook slowly.

Several dragonets popped into existence overhead, spiralling down to a lazy landing nearby and settling themselves in for a nap. Two layers of eyelids closed over their eyes, wings stretched out to absorb the sun while it was still high enough to provide heat. They were almost like cats, really, only the dragonets were even nosier around her stuff when she wasn't there to shoo them away.

By the time the meat finally finished cooking, she was about ready to drop off herself, despite it being early. She'd certainly gotten out of the habit of being on her feet all day lately, hadn't she? Still, Isabel made certain to eat as much as she could before packing the rest away as carefully as she could so it would last over the next few days. After that, she crawled into her makeshift tent, adjusted her worn jacket so it cushioned her head, and fell asleep almost immediately.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~

The missionaries had always known she wasn't quite human, having arrived from the wilds as she had, so Isabel had never thought there was reason to keep quiet about it. Only one of them had ever disliked her for it, and he'd been pulled away soon enough and made to apologize after a long talk with the head of the mission. Even the indians working on the missions knew who she was, and if everyone knew, it couldn't really be a secret, could it?

(Mr. Spain and Ms. Mexico had never stayed long enough to notice such things, and the missionaries had never thought to mention it, because she was just a child, and a properly baptized and taught one at that.)

When the Americans came, trickling in along the coast and settling in, she didn't think much about being honest about her nature, because she'd never had reason to believe otherwise. They justified her belief in their amused tolerance, sharing tales of the not-quite-human people like her back east they'd known growing up in exchange for a message or goods delivered.

As such, Isabel was kept on her feet quite a bit, because she'd never really known Spain or Mexico, not in the same way she was getting to know New York and Virginia and Tennessee and Maine and even America himself. One day, she was certain, she would meet these people for herself, once she was old enough to obtain passage on a boat or wagon. After all, the others had grown up soon enough, and she was just a bit younger than they'd been.

She was surprised, but pleased, when Alfred came to her, leading an army through to officially claim what had already pretty much been his, and she only felt a bit sad when some of her people got hurt in the process. He was kind to her, even if his face tightened a bit when she had asked why Mexico and Spain had needed to look after her, because she'd always been meant to become self-sufficient eventually, so why wouldn't they wean her off as soon as possible?

When she showed him gold, everything started going too quickly to properly take in. Towns sprung up, her body ached with sudden growth and puberty and even the trip back east to confirm her sudden statehood had been unexpectedly harsh and overthrown her expectations on what to expect of the others like her.

But her politicians promised she was safer this way, and Alfred had said much the same, and all these new people were looking to her to help them realize their own dreams, and so even if her own had been tarnished for the moment, she rolled up her sleeves and went to work, because she was going to prove that she was fully capable of being a State like the rest, no matter her youth or inexperience in politics.

Besides, it wasn't like she could head east too often, so she had time, and her own government had a lot of issues to work out anyways.

(God damn that railroad - it had created far more problems than it'd solved!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of random AUs I've been thinking about lately. Might expand on them, might not, depends on future moods and stuff I guess.
> 
> The first is, obviously, my Stargate x-over, the second is something of a joke/semi-serious thing Kait and I have been tossing around occasionally where VA/NJ/TX becomes a thing, the third is a Pern insert which I might be expanding on at some point, and the last is another AU I plan on exploring, where the American and Canadian personifications are public knowledge and, like, it's not a huge deal to anybody.
> 
> I always have so many projects in the works... T-T


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several States (and Alfred) celebrate a NASA mission milestone, even if some others might complain at the hour.

"Sam, get your ass out of bed!" Isabel called through the closed doorway, causing both States currently occupying the bed to groan.

"Can't it wait?" Sam called back, refusing to do more than lift his head from the pillows at the moment. Sue grumbled curses in Dutch and curled closer, hand clutched to his side.

"Well, if you want to miss the Juno insertion, then fine, stay in bed, but Al's already got the TV set up for it."

Shit, he'd almost completely forgotten about that thanks to the general craziness of the 240th Independance Day celebration, the light buzz of alcohol, and the past hour he'd spent with the love of his life. With a greater groan he rolled over, ignoring the complaint from Sue as he rubbed at his eyes, grabbing for his shirt and thankful they'd been too worn out from the party for more than kissing. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Is this one such a big deal?" Sue groused as she slowly started to follow his example, running fingers through her hair.

He couldn't stop the brief frown at that, because yes it might not be too exciting to just see a bunch of people talking about what the mission would be doing and following a bunch of data from a probe millions and millions of miles away, but to him and Bella and Al and the others still up for this, it was the promise of a whole new line of study into the origins of the solar system, and the most in-depth studies of Jupiter itself ever put together and launched.

Well, he conceded, space simply wasn't the thing for everyone. Pressing a final kiss to Sue's forehead in apology, he left the room, closing the door behind him before making his way downstairs, grabbing a beer from Rose, and settling onto the couch besides Bella.

"Finally got Sue to let you out of bed?" The Californian girl teased. "Can't imagine she was happy with you."

"Nah, but she'll forgive me," He replied, popping the can open and taking a sip. " 's something that's only gonna happen once, after all."

Bella sipped at her glass of water, the background noise of the Juno team explaining the mission to the general public ignored for the moment. "I know, right? It's not like we can just dump however many millions we spent on this again if this somehow fails, not with how much Congress sucks balls."

He could help but snort in agreement. "Maybe our next mission should be sending a probe there to try and find intelligent life. Or more cash."

Bella threw her head back and laughed, drawing attention from the rest of the room. "God, wouldn't that be a fuckin' miracle? I doubt NASA'll consider it a good investment even if I butter it up, and I don't even know how I'd spin it so the politicans don't catch on and get pissy at me again."

"No insulting the government this late in the day," Alfred chided lightly from behind the couch, leaning on the back so that he was between them. "Maybe tomorrow, after most of us are over our hangovers."

"No promises," Bella and Sam replied together, offering grins at the roll of his eyes as his gaze flickered back up to the TV.

"Urgh, how fast is this going to be?" Sue asked from the doorway, making her way to the couch and flopping down next to her boyfriend, accepting the offered water from her friend with a sigh.

"Burn's in two minutes, gonna last about fifty, and then it'll be reorienting itself and getting back into contact by one am," Bella explained, drawing another sigh as Sue cuddled into his side.

"What's it about, anyways?" She asked next, glancing up to Sam. "If I'm going to be staying up for this, I at least want to have some idea what you all are cheering about."

"Well, it's going to be studying Jupiter for the next couple of years; radiation, heat, composition, convection currents, that sort of thing. We're hoping that it'll give us a better idea of how the solar system formed, since it's been big enough to influence the orbits of the rest of the planets pretty much since it formed."

"Shame it's gonna break so fast, but not much we can do with all the radiation it's gonna be dealing with every orbit," Bella took a sip from her glass before continuing. "I'm still betting the little lady is gonna last longer than expected, probably push at least two full years before deorbiting."

"Just because the rovers were overwhelming successful doesn't mean anything," Rose countered from her own seat. "They aren't dealing with nearly as much energy as Juno will be."

"So? Hubble, Voyagers One and Two, heck, even Wise have all lasted way beyond what people expected. There's no reason I can't hold out for an extra handful of orbits before the equipment all breaks down."

"Guys, burn's starting in a sec," Alfred interrupted, silencing everyone as they waited, with NASA, for the signals indicating a successful burn.

It took another twenty seconds, but the relieved cheers from NASA were quickly followed by the small group in the room, friendlier chatter starting back up as they were reassured the probe was doing what it needed to do.

"It's weird to hear Isabel and Rose arguing over something other than Disney," Sue whispered to Sam, a light smile on her lips as he tightened his one-armed hug around her briefly.

"Eh, it's just something to kill the time - we never know just how long these thing'll last, and Bella's hoping that this probe'll last long enough for an excuse to turn the probe to the moons for an orbit. Rose would rather use extra orbits for more Jupiter data, but honestly, no one in this room'll complain about any extension to the plans if it does come along."

"Mmm," Sue replied. "Wake me up when something happens then."

"Of course," Sam replied, deciding that overall, this was as good an end to the 4th of July as he could have hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote something for the 4th of July, but probably not quite to the norm. Or perhaps it's more appropriate because, c'mon, you can't tell me Alfred didn't make this particular birthday Jupiter-themed just because of this event? It might or might not be a bit late because I only just thought about this myself, but hey, it's done and it counts so there.
> 
> (Rose=Florida btw)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the local magical schools gets a special guest speaker, and rumors abound.
> 
> Harry Potter-esque AU.

Even before anyone enters the lecture hall, there's rumors abounding about the upcoming lecture on identity magics. She's pretty, some say - too pretty. A veela, perhaps, or descended from sirens. Others claim that even the headmistress deferred to her once, though no one really believes it - the old women wouldn't bow to the president of the AWC, much less some obscure researcher.

None of the rumors, however, prepare them for the young women scrawling notes by hand across the chalkboard. She's short, with bushy hair that flies everywhere, and dressed in muggle fashion. Several muggleborns whisper loudly about the suit - expensive, well fitting, coordinated with the jewelry and what makeup they catch as the lecturer turns to examine her work.

When she first turns to face them is when the first belief in those rumors really comes to bear - though she's merely pretty in the way many women of lucky genes are, she has a presence about her that makes all the students, even the most lackluster, sit up in their seats to listen. There's no magic in it, of course - one or two under the table wand waves confirmed it - but the way she moves and stands and looks at them all conveys a feeling of complete control.

"My name is Isabel García Gomez," She starts, gaze sliding across the crowd. "To you, this might not mean much, but it is a name I chose for myself, one that aligns more with my self-identity than almost any other name I've ever borne. Most of you live with the names given to you from birth, as much a part of your identities as mine is to me, which a few have more than likely thought of, if not outright shared your own preferred names.

"Identity is not just a name, though - it is the summation of all the parts of yourself that are true, the core of every spell or ritual that digs beneath flesh and bone and bears open your very soul to the universe for a brief instant. Identity is solid as rock, and as malleable as soil. All of you can name moments that have changed you, and all of you can name the parts of yourself that have never changed since you first came into this world. Not in words, perhaps, but in the things you hold tight to in your heart, the things so ingrained that even the idea of change is inconceivable.

"Wands are an example of identity magic - subtle, true, but powerful. Every wand chooses their witch or wizard, searches the soul of every child that lays finger on them, looking for that right mix of rock and soil for them to lay down roots. Your wand is a part of your identity, and I've been told by many that no wand is ever quite the same as your first."

Down near the front, one of the older students raises a hand, instantly drawing the gaze of most of the room. "Is that part of why certain woods and cores react to certain types of people better than others?"

The lecturer chuckles. "Yes and no. While people more invested than I in the creation and study of wands all swear on the central meanings of each kind of wood or core, I've found that the types of materials in and of themselves don't actually say much. After all, if it was just, say, a bundle of redwood and serpent spines, anyone with a similar attunement could pick it up and use it freely.

"This is where identity comes in - you've heard a wandmaker say that no two beasts or woods are the same? It's completely true. No two serpents or thunderbirds or firebirds or gowrow live the same life, and no two trees experience the same seasons. Those experiences linger in their bodies and spirits, and so into the materials that go into your wands. That is why you and a thousand others can have the same kind of wand while never being able to use each other's."

"What about your wand, then?" the same student asked. "What does it mean?"

"Don't have one," She replies with a smile and a shrug.

The class is dead silent, and then all at once in an uproar, a thousand questions echoing, but the loudest of all obvious - why is someone with no magic giving a lecture on the magic of identity.

"Shut up," She tells them, and they do.

"Sit down," She commands, and they do.

"I don't need magic to have power, and I don't need magic to understand how identity shapes reality. You know my name, but you don't know me, and so you don't know why I have the power I do." Her gaze doesn't move even as she stares into every one of their souls, or so it feels.

A hand, tentatively, raises to the right. "My dad works with you, I think."

"Oh?" She asks, looking to the first year girl, glare fading away. "What's his name?"

"Jacob Williams."

The lecturer nods. "Yes, I've met him a few times. He say anything in particular about me?"

"Only that he always feels better after you've come by and talked to everyone."

Her glare softens into a smile. "I do try to cheer people up while at work. Anything else?"

"Uhm, that you work directly for the governor, I think?"

And here she snorts. "More like beat him over the head sometimes, but also true. At least he's better than some of congress. But she brings up the other part of my point - the mutable identity. I currently work for the nonmagical government. Obviously, I have not always worked for it, and also obviously, I will not always work for it, but it is currently part of my identity, and so something I and others can associate with me. Age, relationships, religion, sexuality, gender - all of these things are prone to change, in some more strongly than others, but they still define you and who you are.

"In fact, I've found that almost every part of your identity is to some degree mutable asides from two - the first being your dogmas. The faiths that your culture instills in you from before you're even born, the things ingrained so deep that you maintain them like a reflex on an even deeper level than religion. Russian pessimism, Asian family centrism, southern island honor - and, of course, American rejectionism."

A third hand raises. "What's rejectionism?"

"It's the idea that we must reject all dogmas."

"But didn't you just say that we have a dogma?"

"Yup." She laughs. "It's counter-intuitive, but it's true - how many of you would think to tell your neighbor how they should eat, or dress, or sit, or practice their religion?"

It's easy to see the shifting of bodies in discomfort at the idea, as well as a few students looking around, their eyes widening as they start to realize what she's saying.

"It's more obvious in populated places, especially in cities like San Francisco or New York, but you can find it almost anywhere in the US or Canada if you look. It's a survival tactic developed by people around the world coming together in search of opportunities and trying to get along in the meanwhile - your dogmas and identities are no better or worse than your neighbors, so why waste the time and energy trying to make them do things your way when you can instead work together to improve both your lives, and maybe discover something new and exciting in the process?

"Isn't that, after all, what these intercultural schools are about?"

Many of the students look to each other, but very few speak - they'd known they were 'losing out' by not going to the more prestigious and focused schools, but she made the last statement sound as a matter of pride.

"The traditional schools have the advantages of history and practice, true," She continues easily. "There's no doubt that they produce many powerful wizards and witches. But all of them, without a doubt, go in and come out convinced that their tradition is the best tradition, and probably only use other culture's techniques sparingly, if at all.

"You, on the other hand, will never suffer this. What your spellwork will lack in power and history it will more than make up for in ingenuity and breadth. Many of you have already learned spells from several cultures, either from friends or from teachers - and in learning them you have firmly rejected the idea that any one kind of magic is inherently superior to any other.

"Certainly, you can all claim that transfiguration or potions or charms or runes are the best, or that your families' magics flow better than your neighbor's spells, and you might even believe that firmly, but if someone else made a competing claim on a different subject or a different culture, you would not kill them for the slight, or spit on their name. At worst, you'd probably argue, and at best, you'd probably discover a way to put them together to make them both ever better than they could be alone.

"And that's why, ten, twenty, thirty years from now, it won't be the traditionalists who stand prestigious, but the new schools, the ones that embraced the California culture of diversity, the American dogma of tolerance, and said that all magics are equal."

She pauses, looks around the room to see who's still listening, as if anyone would be ignoring her. "Any questions?"

A hand raises, the same girl who asked the first question of the lecture. "You said that there were two things that were immutable - what's the second?"

The lecturer smiles. "Isn't it obvious? The second identity is your homeland."

Even years after the infamous lecture, no one can agree whether she really was who she said she was, or even if she was human. No one can find proof that an Isabel worked or had ever worked for the government, and no one could say where she lived.

Everyone does agree, however, that if you let your gaze wander, you might just catch sight of her in the corner of your eye, a mischievous smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this might be one of the dumbest things I've ever written, but my friend and I got to discussing the American Wizarding tumblr and how it feels a bit more focused on the southern part of the country, and then it led to my own thoughts on California's magical society, and then somehow this happened.
> 
> To be fair, I do like the blog overall, and refer to it for overall ideas, but... seven schools? For the entire US? C'mon, you've gotta have more than that, especially considering all those tiny local schools that would definitely crop up everywhere where parents without the money to send them to one of the prestigious boarding schools can send them for classes.
> 
> And for me, that's what California is – you've got the larger, traditional institutions of various cultures in out of the way places, some of which are boarding schools and some of which aren't. And you've got the inner-city schools, the ones parents of all cultures without the money or presence or interest to get their kids into the larger schools send their kids, which parallel the non-magical public school system.
> 
> Each does has its advantages, in the end. Shrugs. Maybe I'll come up with more Wizarding California headcanons eventually.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some more random nonsense in the life of Bella. Several x-overs.

((Inspired by the americanwizarding tumblr blog))

"You know, I'm really jealous these guys are native to your shores and not mine," Isabel sighed as she scratched behind the ears of the chestnut horse. "You and Caroline both."

Sam snorted. "Like you haven't tried to get a herd going down in San Diego."

Bella huffed. "That's wasn't me, that was some dumbass with more money than sense, and the board cleared that up before the poor things got heart attacks from all the tourists around. Besides, if there's any sort of import I'd want, it'd be those little maple dragons of Sue's, because _god_ those are adorable as all get out, but they can't stand my climate, not that I can blame them."

"Learn that from experience too?"

Bella gave him a look like he was stupid for suggesting she'd risk the little critters like that. Sam sighed and looked back to his own horse, whose ears had been twitching the entire time.

 _This one is strange_ , it told him, tilting its head thoughtfully. _But not bad._

"That she is," he agreed.

"If you're talking smack about me to the horse, I'm gonna smack you," Bella replied cheerfully.

Sam rolled his eyes. "He was just saying you're weird, but the good kind."

The western state pursed her lips in thought before nodding. "Eh, I can live with that. You wanna race?"

Her cousin turned to give her a raised brow.

"I don't usually have much time to get in some horse-riding, and I've never been on a seafoam breed before," Bella defended, "and they like you, so I figured I'd at least ask."

Sam conceded the point, glancing back to the horses for their approval. The one with her threw his head back, pleased with an excuse to burn some energy, and the one with him was fine with it as well.

Isabel beamed at the news, giving a quick hug to the stallion before quickly coming around and all but vaulting onto his back. Very few ever seemed to remember that her childhood had been defined by horse and cattle ranches, to the point where they'd made up the vast majority of her population for generations, but it showed once she actually got on a horse and promptly outraced you or pulled tricks that might be called reckless by the less informed.

Of course, that just meant their race was fair, since he had the regular practice to her dusty skills, the two laughing at the sand and sea spray kicked up by their steeds as they raced down the empty stretch of beach.

~0~0~0~0~0~

((Bella = Canon, Isabel = Hidden Away 'verse))

Bella blinked, then raised a finger to ask the first question that came into her head. "How in the hell did they pull that sort of thing off?"

Her younger dimensional counterpart shrugged. "I never got the full story, but apparently England and France weren't around at the time, so the easterners got together and decided that what the countries didn't know wouldn't hurt them. After that it was a matter of keeping track of when any of the Nations would show up and getting the kids out of the way in time."

"No no, I mean…" Bella paused for a moment to think of the right words. "The east coast sort of… didn't get along in that time period? Especially between the north and south. The fact that they willingly cooperated on something of that scale before the Revolution is just really hard for me to picture."

Isabel hummed thoughtfully. "Well, Virginia was the one who pointed out that they'd all lose their privilege and attention from England if they didn't go through with it, so I guess that they decided cooperating was the lesser of evils."

"Doesn't seem to have affected the human side of history much, from what I can tell."

"Humans are humans; I think only full out intervention would really make a difference."

"Probably," Bella agreed, not mentioning the universe she'd been in where just that had happened.

(Needless to say, it'd been… interesting. And more nerve-wracking than she'd liked.)

"Are you sure you can't tell me more about what's coming?" Isabel asked, frowning. "I mean, it's not like it'll affect you once you're gone."

"I know, but I'm not such a dick that I want you to get in trouble if the others realize you know more than you should," Bella replied. "Besides, you'll more than likely hit sixth most powerful economy in the world without any of that, since you're as competent as I am."

Isabel snorted and grinned. "Hard not to be with what I've got at hand. Are you sure I should try getting along with New York, though? He's not exactly friendly towards me right now."

"Trust me, he'll come around," Bella affirmed. "And besides, you'll want to know the east better so that when your economy skyrockets, you can laugh at them all from your enormous piles of money."

Alright, maybe it was a bit mean to not mention anything about Susie, but Bella was fairly sure that the only way to make it genuine would be for Isabel to discover the softer side of the Garden State for herself, not make half-hearted overtures based on advice from an alternate self.

And as for Ben, well, she'd been to enough universes to know that Ben was the absolute best one could hope for as both a rival and as an ally.

Besides, warning about the next world war and the cold war after was just common sense and hard for any individual to derail regardless of what her counterpart did - the details, not so much, and she'd be damned if Isabel got blindsided expecting one thing and tripping over herself to adjust her plans for another.

Chaos theory sucked, a lot, but that was life sometimes.

~0~0~0~0~0~

((Because I have the strangest things in my story notes document…))

"You know, I was expecting it to be a bit harder to build up some cash when I got dumped here," Bella mused, holding herself still to avoid getting prodded by a needle.

"Most newcomers don't establish more than a dozen patents in their first week and sell rights to them all for as much as you can get," Rarity replied, finishing up the last detail work on the dress that'd be seeing the young woman to the Gala that spring. "Especially that black thread - it's bizarre to work with something that doesn't look like it exists."

Bella laughed. "Yeah, but you have to admit it's also really neat holding the closest thing to the void right in your hands- er, hooves."

"More like exasperating," The unicorn replied, making a loop around the stool to inspect her work. "The material sells as quickly as Twilight can make it, and that's including the percent she's allowed to keep from each batch for her experiments. At the least it hasn't affected my normal sales yet…"

"I mean, I'm pretty sure it's only another month or so until it becomes mass producible, and then you'll have to deal with the next season's fashions all using it."

"That's what I was referring to," Rarity stepped back, withdrawing her tools with a firm nod. "You're all done by the way, and thank you as always for being a good model."

"Thanks, Rarity, I love it," Bella replied, stepping off the stool and taking the chance to look herself over in the mirrors. "Are you sure I can't just kidnap you when I go home? Because I know Francis would adore you endlessly, especially since it'd make Arthur that much more jealous."

The unicorn laughed. "I'm afraid I work for myself alone, even if he does sound sophisticated. I'll consider visiting once I can afford the time away from the shop, and not because you bought out a week of my time."

Bella grinned and shrugged. "Hey, cash is cash, and I'm sure Twilight will be mostly behaved when she insists on coming along."

Rarity simply groaned as she anticipated what her friend would do with so much new research material. "Maybe I should just wait until everything blows over…"

~0~0~0~0~0~

((And a different sort of Pern crossover because I'm trash.))

"Come on, Ginny, come on…" Bella exhaled sharply, foot tapping against the ground as she glanced again to the side. "Where even are you?"

Finally the connection clicked, and she didn't even give Ginny a chance to speak before starting in. "Hey, you're a specialist on supernatural stuff, right? 'Cause I sort of have a big problem and need you help, like, _immediately_."

"Isabel?" Ginny checked, sounding rather irritated. "I'm in the middle of a meeting, I can't just get up and leave-"

Isabel pulled the phone from her ear, brought the camera up and around to take a few pictures, and sent them. The noise from the speakers immediately stopped, and she brought it back up to her ear again. "Like I said, a _big_ problem."

"...I swear, if this is some sort of prank-"

"I'd be pulling it on Sam, or one of the other more gullible states, and you know it," Isabel interrupted. "And I wouldn't do it with a _giant fucking dragon_ that almost tore up _half of my garden!_ "

"Right, just- give me a second, alright, and you can catch me up while I get a flight over," Ginny groaned. "I swear to God this is not how I needed my week to go…"

"You're preaching to the choir."

On getting no reply, she pulled the phone away and finally looked back to the hulking gold beast that had crushed her tomato and lettuce beds. At least it hadn't run into any of her fruit trees, which were not the sort of things she could just replant casually once this issue was dealt with.

Honestly, the weirdest part about this all was that dragons were supposed to be _extinct_ \- or at least close enough that one wasn't likely to just randomly wander into a populated region. Not to mention those _eyes_ , like someone had just decided to scale up dragonfly eyes and put them into the sockets instead. Overall, it was as if someone had tried to recreate one of the European breeds after hearing about it for the first time, only to forget half the details in the process.

Noise came over the phone again, and Bella put it back to her ear. "What was that?"

"I said I've got a flight, so I'll be there in a few hours. You're in Monterey, right?"

"Yeah. What do you want to know first?"

"What direction did it fly in from?"

Bella pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "No clue - first time I noticed it was when it'd screeched right before it crashed into my planter boxes."

"Then what direction does the crash point to?"

"Hold on, lemme check- east, it came from the east. I guess?"

The dragon groaned, and Bella really hoped Ginny would get there soon. Gah, why couldn't Tony have been available, he could've gotten there in a fraction of the time!

~0~0~0~0~0~

((And rounding it off with some more HP-verse stuffs.))

"Are all of these magical?" Ginny asked, holding up the basket in her hands with a critical eye.

"Nah, only like half of them," Isabel replied, cutting up the rest of the vegetables going into the salads for their lunch. "And most of 'em are preservation spells, since they're better at keeping the fruit from spoiling without cluttering up my fridge."

"I'll admit these are some of the cleanest spells I've ever seen," The witch replied, settling the basket back down on the shelf she'd pulled it from. "I can't find an edge or hole in it anywhere."

"It's the benefit of having the best basketweavers in the world," Isabel agreed cheerfully, tossing everything into two bowls and bringing it over to the kitchen counter. "Case in point, how many baskets do I have on each of the shelves?"

Ginny frowned, glancing around at all the various crafts. "Three, three, three, three, two, three… wait a second."

Isabel laughed. "Man, it got you too? I expected more of the wicked witch of the east."

"I'm sorry I wasn't exactly looking for that in particular," Ginny sniped back. "But that is an impressive notice-me-not - how in the world are you not affected?"

"Got tied into it when I got it as a gift," The western state replied, taking a bite of her salad before continuing. "I keep all my blackmail on Ben in it."

Ginny snorted but didn't call her out, which was good, because the actual things inside there were fairly personal, hence the reason for having a basket that could vanish the second you stopped thinking about it. Someone observant might notice it if they were OCD about that sort of thing, but she didn't have so many come through her house that it was a major concern of hers.

And those who did? Well, there was a reason she'd paid extra for a bit more protection around it… you know, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so my excuse for not posting in a while is, well, I sorta got caught up in an exciting new Naruto/HP xover on the SpaceBattles forum and it's the main focus of my time. It's got high approval ratings for being original, so if you like that shit go check it out!
> 
> In order for these drabbles:
> 
> My New Jersey friend and I were discussing State abilities, and she decided Sam aka Texas had something to do with animals, so, animal communion.
> 
> I've got a lot of crossovers down for Bella to experience, which is hilarious when you consider I started out with the idea of Alfred and Matthew experiencing the fun of the multiverse.
> 
> Surprise, I liked MLP more than I thought I would when I finally decided to watch a few episodes. I'm still sorta meh on some episodes, but overall it's a surprisingly mature, lighthearted series.
> 
> This is born entirely out of the annoyance at the HP xover that first held this idea and its ability to completely fuck it up. Also, my friend apparently had this exact same idea only with her char before I ever mentioned it to her – clearly she and I have hit bestie status if we share such wavelengths!
> 
> Finally, props to my california history class that taught me so many new and exciting things about my state's history, including the fact that Bella really hated everyone for a long while. Also that she held the country by the balls less than thirty years after she joined the Union – don't believe me? The elections of 1880 were determined by who was more anti-Chinese immigration – which was only considered a problem in California!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly some magic related drabbles featuring Bella.

((AU in which Canadians and Americans know all of their local personifications))

People dislike change, especially change that causes them to lose power in some form. Naturally, people tend to resist such changes where they can, in some cases even attempting to reverse things. Proposition Eight was one such measure, designed to shove back the recent burst of LGBT pride in the state of California, a state less likely to spawn it than one would expect, but such was life.

In another universe, perhaps such a proposition might have gained traction, even to the point of being passed. In this one, however, there was one, minor road block…

Isabel failed to blink while staring down the newscaster. "What."

"Er," The man replied, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "You haven't heard about the new same-sex marriage measure gathering signatures?"

"No, I haven't," She replied slowly, expression still flat. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

"Some people are proposing an amendment to the state constitution declaring straight marriage to be the only legally recognized marriage?"

"Right," She said, sounding unimpressed. "Of course. How could I be so silly?"

The newscaster coughed, glancing uncomfortably at the cameraman.

Her expression picked up. "Would you guys like a short history lesson? How much do you remember about the marriage license scandal from a few years back?"

The man frowned thoughtfully. "...the one from San Francisco?"

"Yeah, that one. Gavin Newsom had just become mayor, and decided that same-sex marriage was protected under the equal protection clause. When congress found out, they tried to stop it and get the licenses revoked, or at least prevent more from being made."

"And you were involved personally?"

Isabel smiled, perfectly friendly and composed. "Well, who else do you think the mayor asked to oversee all the marriages? No one better to prove your cause legal than the state herself, ya know? And some of my own congress had the nerve to tell me the licenses I was signing personally weren't _legit_."

Her voice then dropped. "Would you like to know what happened to them?"

Needless to say, the proposition never saw the ballot.

(The video, once it hit the internet, went viral in hours. Half-hour long rants on the intelligence and family histories of all those involved by a beloved international superstar tended to generate those sorts of numbers.)

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

((More HPtalia with Isabel!))

"School?" Isabel raised a brow. "Like, singular? I'm pretty sure I'd have a riot on my hands if I tried to enforce that. Nah, I've got, like, four traditional boarding schools up north in the mountains."

Arthur choked on his tea, glancing up to the younger personification in askance. "Four? Why would you need that many?"

"Western European, Eastern European, East Asian, Central Asian," She rattled off, smiling wryly. "None of them want to share their traditions with the others, so they quartered off the mountains and built up. Mostly the area's convenient 'cause no nonmagical people are willing to trek through the deeper parts of that mess, and it's not that hard to hide from aerial mappings. Also quite a few houses through the place for the same reasons, mostly the types who like collecting their own reagents or just don't like people too much."

He nodded in understanding. "Yes, I suppose I could see the issue in getting people of mine and Ivan's schools to play nicely together for long periods. I can't imagine it's a convenient journey for those in the southern areas."

"That's what the trains are for," Isabel pointed out with a grin. "And besides, only like a fifth of my magical folk go to those schools these days - most prefer the day school system set up across the state. I think they just opened the ninety fourth on the outskirts of Oakland, actually."

Fortunately for her blouse, she'd waited to add that last bit until after he'd swallowed his drink.

(She had a population larger than most countries, and kept drawing in more, so the magical community had had to get creative. It was much easier to have a public school system than attempt to make the traditional schools expand every few years, and it was more convenient for those parents who couldn't afford the tuition or just wanted to keep the kids closer to home.)

(Honestly, it was hard to believe Europe hadn't started implementing that yet, but that was Europe, she supposed.)

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

((And yet more because my randomizer has a hard-on for this setting))

"How the hell did you manage to break an arm between yesterday and today?" Sue asked bemusedly, fingers fluttering over the dark red cast Bella was now wearing.

"Well, I went home to check in on my stuff, since I've got some new seedlings growing that I don't want the raccoons and stuff to get to, ya know?" Bella said, wincing when she moved her shoulder. "Good thing too, cause the second I Stepped into the house I heard something rustling around in my greenhouse."

"I'm guessing it wasn't raccoons?"

"Nope, a snallygaster, and a big one at that."

Ben choked from where he'd been not-so-subtly listening in on the conversation. "Aren't those things supposed to be kept locked up tight in the preserves?"

"Apparently one managed to worm its way out, based on what the authorities told me after they came to get the body. Ate half my freaking tomato plants too."

Sue stared at her friend in disbelief. "Those things are bulletproof - and you want us to believe you took it down?"

Bella snorted. "Bulletproof doesn't mean invulnerable, you know. I happened to have one of those storm jars I confiscated from a jerk who was gonna fry a power station."

"Aren't those illegal?"

"I was _planning_ on handing it over to a disposal team after the meetings were over, sheesh." Bella rolled her eyes. "Anyways, once I saw it and it saw me, I ran inside and managed to grab the jar before it tore through my back door, and opened it up pointing at its head. Since it's got lots of metal in its beak, lightning went right for it instead of the rest of the house. Thing went flying back a good twenty feet, probably dead before it finished rolling across the ground. Don't think the preservation folks were happy with me, but it was the one that tried to eat me, it got what was coming for it."

"If you got it before it got you, why's your arm broken, then?" Ben asked, brow raised.

Bella flushed. "I sorta went flying the other way from the force of it. Slammed right into the wall. I have some people coming in tomorrow to fix it, but until then I have a me-sized dent in it."

Sue simply sighed.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

((seriously this is just silly and I'm running out of ideas))

"Why hello there, cutie," Bella cooed over the maple dragon hiding in Sue's hair. "You're Marigold, right?"

"Yeah, this one's Mary," Sue confirmed, reaching a hand back to scratch the palm-sized head. "The ones curled up in the branches right now are Dahlia, Buttercup, and Amaranth. There's a few others, but I think they're out looking for food right now, so you'll probably see them later when they're all curled up in the trees."

"I can't believe you have something so adorable living in your backyard," Bella sighed. "And the worst part is that their trees would _hate_ my climate, so I can't even try and sneak them home anyways."

"You don't have to have every magical species on the continent in your state, you know," Sue replied. "You've already got enough species as it is."

"Yeah, but diversity is good," Bella replied. "And besides, I can't think of a single person who wouldn't want to see these little guys darting around in autumn having a good time. Heptagon Gardens especially would have them as main attractions if they could."

"As if these ones would be happy with so many people staring at them all season," Sue huffed. "Really, I thought you were trying to be more considerate of that sort of thing."

Bella shrugged. "Hey, I'd just be planting the trees - it'd be up to the dragons to move in. If it didn't work, at least there'd be some pretty trees."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say asides from the fact that my randomizer really likes the hp AU or whatever exploring magical California. Not magical Bella, mind you, just magical fauna and stuff in the state.


End file.
